[      OCT  3   1990  J 

BX  5199   .N55  A37  1830 
Newton,  John,  1725-1807. 
The  life  of  the  Rev.  John 
Newton,  rector  of  St.  Mary 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2015 


https://archive.org/details/lifeofrevjohnnewOOnewt 


JHRISTIAN  BIOGRAPHY. 


W  1. 


THE  LIFE  OB1 


THE 


REV.  JOHN  NEWTON, 


RECTOR  OF  ST.  MARY  WOOLNOTH,  LONDON. 


"AH  AUTHENTIC  .NARRATIVE,"  WRITTEN  BY  HIMSELF:  TO  WHICH 
SOME  FURTHER  PARTICULARS  ARE  ADDED. 


.  ill  briflg  tlie  blind  by  n  way  that  they  knew  not  \  I  will  lead  them  in  paths  that 
y  have  not  known ;  I  will  make  darkness  light  before  them,  and  crooked  thing* 

straight-  These  things  will  I  do  unto  them, and  not  forsake  them  Ira.  42 1  16. 

I  :u  wonder  unto  many. —  Psaim  71 1  7. 


TL-t 

m*5 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE 

AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY, 

No.  144  Nassau-street,  New- York 


PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


Presented  by     A  .  \A  ■  L-Q-meTO'Ti, 

^„..IC-.£ 


CHRISTIAN  BIOGRAPHY. 


THE  LIFE  OF 


THE 


RET.  JOHN  NEWTON, 


RECTOR  OF  ST.  MARY  WOOLNOTH,  LONDON. 


'an  authentic  narrative,  written  by  himself:  to  which 
some  further  particulars  are  added. 


I  will  bring  the  blind  by  a  way  that  they  knew  not ;  I  will  lead  them  in  paths  that 
they  have  not  known ;  I  will  make  darkness  light  before  them,  and  crooked  thing* 
straight.  These  things  will  I  do  unto  them,  and  not  forsake  them  ha.  42 :  1C. 

I  am  a  wonder  unto  many — Ptalm  71 1  7. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE 

AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY, 

No.  144  Nassau-street,  New- York 


V 


THE  LIFE 

OF  THE 

REV.  JOHIV  NEWTOX, 

RECTOR  OF  ST.  MARY  WOOLNOTH,  LONDON. 


The  following  Letters  were  written  by  the  late  Rev.  J.  JVeicton,  to  the, 
Bev.  T.  Haweis,  and  were  first  published  in  the  year  1764. 


LETTER  I. 

I  make  no  doubt  but  you  have  at  times  had  pleasing  re- 
flections upon  that  promise  made  to  the  Israelites,  in  Deut. 
8  :  2.  They  were  then  in  the  wilderness,  surrounded  with 
difficulties,  which  were  greatly  aggravated  by  their  own 
distrust  and  perverseness  :  they  had  experienced  a  variety 
of  dispensations,  the  design  of  which  they  could  not  as  yet 
understand ;  they  frequently  lost  sight  of  God's  gracious 
purposes  in  their  favor,  and  were  much  discouraged  by  rea- 
son of  the  way.  To  compose  and  animate  their  minds, 
Moses  here  suggests  to  them,  that  there  was  a  future  happy 
time  drawing  near,  when  their  journey  and  warfare  should 
be  finished  ;  that  they  should  soon  be  put  in  possession  of 
the  promised  land,  and  have  rest  from  all  their  fears  and 
troubles  ;  and  then  it  would  give  them  pleasure  to  look  back 
upon  what  they  now  found  so  uneasy  to  bear :  "  Thou 
shalt  remember  all  the  way  by  which  the  Lord  thy  God  led 
thee  through  this  wilderness." 

But  the  importance  and  comfort  of  these  words  is  still 
greater,  if  we  consider  them,  in  a  spiritual  sense,  as  ad- 
dressed to  all  who  are  passing  through  the  wilderness  of 
this  world  to  a  heavenly  Canaan ;  who,  by  faith  in  the  pro- 
mises and  power  of  God,  are  seeking  an  eternal  rest  in  that 
kingdom  which  cannot  be  shaken.  The  hope  of  that  glorious 
inheritance  inspires  us  with  some  degree  of  courage  and 
zeal  to  press  forward  to  the  place  where  Jesus  has  already 
entered  as  our  forerunner;  and  when  our  eye  is  fixed  upon 


4 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


him,  we  are  more  than  conquerors  over  all  that  would  with- 
stand our  progress.  But  we  have  not  yet  attained ;  we  still 
feel  the  infirmities  of  a  fallen  nature  :  through  the  remains 
of  ignorance  and  unbelief,  we  often  mistake  the  Lord's  deal- 
ings with  us,  and  are  ready  to  complain,  when,  if  we  knew 
all,  we  should  rather  rejoice.    But  to  us  likewise  there  is  a 
time  coming,  when  our  warfare  shall  be  accomplished,  our 
views  enlarged,  and  our  light  increased ;  then  with  what 
transports  of  adoration  and  love  shall  we  look  back  upon 
the  way  by  which  the  Lord  led  us !  We  shall  then  see  and 
acknowledge  that  mercy  and  goodness  directed  every  step ; 
we  shall  see,  that,  what  our  ignorance  once  called  adversi- 
ties and  evils,  were  in  reality  blessings,  which  we  could  not 
have  done  well  without ;  that  nothing  befell  us  without  a 
cause ;  that  no  trouble  came  upon  us  sooner,  or  pressed  on 
us  more  heavily,  or  continued  longer,  than  our  case  re- 
quired :  in  a  word,  that  our  many  afflictions  were  each  in 
their  place  among  the  means  employed  by  divine  grace  and 
wisdom,  to  bring  us  to  the  possession  of  that  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory  which  the  Lord  has  prepared  for  his 
people.    And  even  in  this  imperfect  state,  though  we  are 
seldom  able  to  judge  aright  of  our  present  circumstances, 
yet  if  we  look  upon  the  years  of  our  past  life,  and  compare 
the  dispensations  we  have  been  brought  through  with  the 
frame  of  our  minds  under  each  successive  period;  if  we  con- 
sider how  wonderfully  one  thing  has  been  connected  with 
another,  so  that  what  we  now  number  amongst  our  greatest 
advantages,  perhaps,  took  their  first  rise  from  incidents 
which  we  thought  hardly  worth  our  notice ;  and  that  we 
have  sometimes  escaped  the  greatest  dangers  that  threatened 
us,  not  by  any  wisdom  or  foresight  of  our  own,  but  by  the 
intervention  of  circumstances  which  we  neither  desired  nor 
thought  of:  I  say,  when  we  compare  and  consider  these 
things  by  the  light  offered  us  in  the  Holy  Scriptures,  we 
may  collect  indisputable  proof,  from  the  narrow  circle  of 
our  own  concerns,  that  the  wise  and  good  providence  of  God 
watches  over  his  people  from  the  earliest  moment  of  their 
life  ;  overrules  and  guards  them  through  all  their  wanderings 
in  a  state  of  ignorance,  and  leads  them  in  a  way  that  they 
know  not,  till  at  length  his  providence  and  grace  concur  in 
those  events  and  impressions  which  bring  them  to  the  know- 
ledge of  him  and  themselves. 


53 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


5 


I  am  persuaded  that  every  believer  will,  upon  due  re- 
flection, see  enough  in  his  own  case  to  confirm  this  remark  ; 
but  not  all  in  the  same  degree.  The  outward  circumstances 
of  many  have  been  uniform,  they  have  known  but  little  va- 
riety in  life  ;  and,  with  respect  to  their  inward  change,  it  has 
been  effected  in  a  secret  way,  unnoticed  by  others,  and  al- 
most unperceived  by  themselves.  The  Lord  has  spoken  to 
them,  not  in  thunder  and  tempest ;  but  with  a  still  small 
voice  he  has  drawn  them  gradually  to  himself;  so  that, 
though  they  have  a  happy  assurance  that  they  know  and 
love  him,  and  are  passed  from  death  unto  life,  yet  of  the 
precise  time  and  manner,  they  can  give  little  account. 
Others  he  seems  to  select  in  order  to  show  the  exceeding 
riches  of  his  grace,  and  the  greatness  of  his  mighty  power: 
he  suffers  the  natural  rebellion  and  wickedness  of  their 
hearts  to  have  full  scope  :  while  sinners  of  less  note  are  cut 
off  with  little  warning,  these  are  spared,  though  sinning  with 
a  high  hand,  and,  as  it  were,  studying  their  own  destruction. 
At  length,  when  all  that  knew  them  are  perhaps  expecting 
to  hear  that  they  are  made  signal  instances  of  divine  ven- 
geance,the  Lord  (whose  thoughts  are  high  above  ours,  as 
the  heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth)  is  pleased  to  pluck 
them  as  brands  out  of  the  fire,  and  to  make  them  monu- 
ments of  his  mercy,  for  the  encouragement  of  others:  they 
are,  beyond  expectation,  convinced,  pardoned,  and  changed 

A  case  of  this  sort  indicates  a  divine  power  no  less  than 
the  creation  of  a  world :  it  is  evidently  the  Lord's  doing, 
and  it  is  marvellous  in  the  eyes  of  all  those  who  are  not 
blinded  by  prejudice  and  unbelief. 

Such  was  the  persecuting  Saul :  his  heart  was  full  of  en- 
mity against  Jesvs  of  Nazareth,  and  therefore  he  persecuted 
and  made  havoc  of  his  disciples. 

He  had  been  a  terror  to  the  church  of  Jerusalem,  and 
was  going  to  Damascus  with  the  same  views.  He  was  yet 
breathing  out  threatenings  and  slaughter  against  all  that 
loved  the  Lord  Jesus.  He  thought  little  of  the  mischief  he 
had  hitherto  done.  He  was  engaged  for  the  suppression  of 
the  whole  sect ;  and  hurrying  from  house  to  house,  from 
place  to  place,  he  carried  menaces  in  his  look,  and  repeated 
threatenings  with  every  breath.  Such  was  his  spirit  and 
temper,  when  the  Lord  Jesus,  whom  he  hated  and  opposed, 
'.hecked  him  in  the  height  of  his  rage,  called  this  bitter  per- 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOIIN  NEWTON. 


[6 


secutoi  to  the  honor  of  an  apostle,  and  inspired  him  to 
preach,  with  great  zeal  and  earnestness,  that  faith  which  he 
so  lately  labored  to  destroy. 

Nor  are  we  without  remarkable  displays  of  the  same 
sovereign  efficacious  grace  in  our  own  times  :  I  may  parti- 
cularly mention  the  instance  of  the  late  Colonel  Gardiner. 
If  any  real  satisfaction  could  be  found  in  a  sinful  course,  he 
would  have  met  with  it ;  for  he  pursued  the  experiment  with 
all  possible  advantages.  He  was  habituated  to  evil ;  and 
many  uncommon,  almost  miraculous,  deliverances  made  no 
impression  upon  him.  Yet,  he  likewise  was  made  willing  in 
the  day  of  God's  power  ;  and  the  bright  example  of  his  life, 
illustrated  and  diffused  by  the  account  of  him  published 
since  his  death,  has  afforded  an  occasion  of  much  praise  to 
God,  and  much  comfort  to  his  people. 

After  the  mention  of  such  names,  can  you  permit  me, 
Sir,  to  add  my  own?  If  I  do,  it  must  be  with  a  very  hum- 
bling distinction.  These  once  eminent  sinners  proved  emi- 
nent Christians :  much  had  been  forgiven  them,  they  loved 
much.  St.  Paul  could  say,  "  The  grace  bestowed  upon  me 
was  not  in  vain  ;  for  I  labored  more  abundantly  than  they 
all."  Colonel  Gardiner  likewise  was  as  a  city  set  upon  a 
hill,  a  burning  and  a  shining  light :  the  manner  of  his  con- 
version was  hardly  more  singular  than  the  whole  course  of 
his  conversation  from  that  time  to  his  death.  Here,  alas ! 
the  parallel  greatly  fails.  It  has  not  been  thus  with  me.  I 
must  take  deserved  shame  to  myself,  that  I  have  made  very 
unsuitable  returns  for  what.  I  have  received.  But,  if  the 
question  is  only  concerning  the  patience  and  long-suffering 
of  God,  the  wonderful  interposition  of  his  providence  in 
favor  of  an  unworthy  sinner,  the  power  of  his  grace  in  soft- 
ening the  hardest  heart,  and  the  riches  of  his  mercy  in  par- 
doning the  most  enormous  and  aggravated  transgressions ; 
in  these  respects  I  know  no  case  more  extraordinary  than 
my  own :  and  indeed  most  persons  to  whom  I  have  related 
my  story,  have  thought  it  worthy  of  being  preserved. 

1  never  gave  any  succinct  account,  in  writing,  of  the 
Lord's  dealing  with  me,  till  very  lately :  for  I  was  deterred, 
on  the  one  hand,  by  the  great  difficulty  of  writing  properly 
when  Self  is  concerned;  on  the  other,  by  the  ill  use  which 
persons  of  corrupt  and  perverse  minds  are  often  known  to 
make  of  such  instances.   The  Psalmist  reminds  us,  that  a 


LIFE  OP  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


7 


reserve  in  these  things  is  proper,  when  lie  says,  "  Come  and 
hear,  all  ye  that  fear  God,  and  I  will  declare  what  he  hath 
done  for  ray  soul ;  and  our  Lord  cautions  us  not  to  "  cast 
pearls  before  swine."  The  pearls  of  a  Christian  are,  per- 
haps, his  choice  experiences  of  the  Lord's  power  and  love 
in  the  concerns  of  his  soul ;  and  these  should  not  be  at  all 
adventures  made  public,  lest  we  give  occasion  to  earthly 
and  grovelling  souls  to  profane  what  they  cannot  under- 
stand. These  were  the  chief  reasons  of  my  backwardness  ; 
but  a  few  weeks  since  I  yielded  to  the  judgment  and  request 
of  a  much-respected  friend,  and  sent  him  a  relation  at  large, 
in  a  series  of  eight  letters.  The  event  has  been  what  I  little 
expected :  I  wrote  to  one  person ;  but  my  letters  have  fall- 
en into  many  hands :  amongst  others,  I  find  they  have 
reached  your  notice;  and,  instead  of  blaming  me  for  being 
too  tedious  and  circumstantial,  which  was  the  fault  I  feared 
1  had  committed,  you  are  pleased  to  desire  a  still  more  dis- 
tinct detail.  As  you  and  other  of  my  friends  apprehend  my 
compliance  with  this  request  may  be  attended  with  some 
good  effect,  may  promote  the  pleasing  work  of  praise  to 
our  adorable  Redeemer,  or  confirm  the  faith  of  some  or 
other  of  his  people,  I  am  willing  to  obey  :  I  give  up  my  own 
reasonings  upon  the  inexpediency  of  so  inconsiderable  a 
person  as  myself  adventuring  in  so  public  a  point  of  view. 
If  God  may  be  glorified  on  my  behalf,  and  his  children  in 
any  measure  comforted  or  instructed  by  what  I  have  to  de- 
clare of  his  goodness,  I  shall  be  satisfied ;  and  am  content  to 
leave  all  other  possible  consequences  of  this  undertaking  in 
His  hands  who  does  all  things  well. 

I  must  again  have  recourse  to  my  memory,  as  I  retained 
no  copies  of  the  letters  you  saw.  So  far  as  I  can  recollect, 
what  I  then  wrote  I  will  relate ;  but  shall  not  affect  a  need- 
less variety  of  phrase  and  manner,  merely  because  those 
have  been  already  perused  by  many.  I  may,  perhaps,  in 
some  places,  when  repeating  the  same  facts,  express  myself 
in  nearly  the  same  words;  yet  I  propose,  according  to  your 
desire,  to  make  this  relation  more  explicit  and  particular 
than  the  former ;  especially  toward  the  close,  which  I  wound 
up  hastily,  lest  my  friend  should  be  wearied.  I  hope  you 
w  ill  likewise  excuse  me,  if  I  do  not  strictly  confine  myself 
to  narration,  but  now  and  then  intersperse  such  reflections 
as  may  offer  while  I  am  writing  ;  and  though  you  have  sig- 


8 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWlONi 


P 


nified  your  intentions  of  communicating  what  I  send  you  to 
others,  I  must  not,  on  this  account,  affect  a  conciseness  and 
correctness,  which  is  not  my  natural  talent,  lest  the  whole 
should  appear  dry  and  constrained.  I  shall,  therefore,  if 
possible,  think  only  of  you,  and  write  with  that  confidence 
and  freedom  which  your  friendship  and  candor  deserve. 
This  sheet  may  stand  as  a  preface  ;  and  I  purpose,  as  far  as 
I  can,  to  intermit  many  other  engagements,  until  I  have 
completed  the  task  you  have  assigned  me.  In  the  mean- 
time, I  entreat  the  assistance  of  your  prayers,  that  in  this, 
and  all  my  poor  attempts,  I  may  have  a  single  eye  to  His 
glory  who  was  pleased  to  call  me  out  of  horrid  darkness 
into  the  marvellous  light  of  his  Gospel. 


LETTER  II. 

1  can  sometimes  feel  a  pleasure  in  repeating  the  grate- 
ful acknowledgment  of  David,  "  O  Lord,  I  am  thy  servant, 
the  son  of  thine  handmaid ;  thou  hast  loosed  my  bonds." 
The  tender  mercies  of  God  toward  me  were  manifested  in 
the  first  moment  of  my  life.  I  was  born,  as  it  were,  in  his 
house.  My  mother  (as  I  have  heard  from  many)  was  a  pious, 
experienced  Christian :  she  was  a  dissenter,  in  communion 
with  the  late  Dr.  Jennings.  I  was  her  only  child ;  and  as 
she  was  of  a  weak  constitution,  and  a  retired  temper,  almost 
her  whole  employment  was  the  care  of  my  education.  I 
have  some  faint  remembrance  of  her  care  and  instructions. 
At  a  time  when  I  could  not  be  more  than  three  years  of 
age,  she  herself  taught  me  English ;  and  with  so  much  suc- 
cess, (as  I  had  something  of  a  forward  turn,)  that  when  I 
was  four  years  old  I  could  read  with  propriety  in  any  com- 
mon book  that  offered.  She  stored  my  memory,  which 
was  then  very  retentive,  with  many  valuable  pieces,  chap- 
ters, and  portions  of  Scripture,  catechisms,  hymns,  and 
poems.  My  temper  at  that  time  seemed  quite  suitable  to  her 
wishes ;  I  had  little  inclination  to  the  noisy  sports  of  chil- 
dren, but  was  best  pleased  when  in  her  company,  and  al- 
ways as  willing  to  learn  as  she  was  to  teach  me.  How  far 
the  best  education  may  fall  short  of  reaching  the  heart,  will 
strongly  appear  in  the  sequel  of  my  history  :  yet  I  think,  for 


9] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


9 


the  encouragement  of  pious  parents  to  go  on  in  the  good 
way  of  doing  their  part  faithfully  to  form  their  children's 
minds,  I  may  properly  propose  myself  as  an  instance. 
Though  in  process  of  time  I  sinned  away  all  the  advantages 
of  these  early  impressions,  yet  they  were  for  a  great  while 
a  restraint  upon  me;  they  returned  again  and  again,  and  it 
was  very  long  before  I  could  wholly  shake  them  off;  and 
when  the  Lord  at  length  opened  my  eyes,  I  found  a  great 
benefit  from  the  recollection  of  them.  Further,  my  dear 
mother,  besides  the  pains  she  took  with  me,  often  com- 
mended me,  with  many  prayers  and  tears,  to  God ;  and  I 
doubt  not  but  I  reap  the  fruits  of  these  prayers  to  this  hour. 

My  mother  observed  my  early  progress  with  peculiar 
pleasure,  and  intended,  from  the  first,  to  bring  me  up  with  a 
view  to  the  ministry,  if  it  should  please  God  to  convert  me 
by  his  grace,  and  incline  my  heart  to  the  work.  In  my  sixth 
year  I  began  to  learn  Latin  ;  but  before  I  had  time  to  know 
much  about  it,  the  intended  plan  of  my  education  was 
broken  short.  The  Lord's  designs  were  far  beyond  the  views 
of  an  earthly  parent:  he  was  pleased  to  reserve  me  for  unu- 
sual proof  of  his  patience,  providence,  and  grace ;  and  there- 
fore overruled  the  purpose  of  my  friends,  by  depriving  me 
of  this  excellent  parent  when  I  was  something  under  seven 
years  old.  I  was  born  the  24th  of  July,  1725,  and  she  died 
the  11th  of  that  month,  1732. 

My  father  was  then  at  sea :  (he  was  a  commander  in  the 
Mediterranean  trade  at  that  time :)  he  came  home  the  fol- 
lowing year,  and  soon  after  married  again.  Thus  I  passed 
into  different  hands.  I  was  well  treated  in  all  other  respects; 
but  the  loss  of  my  mother's  instructions  was  not  repaired. 
I  was  now  permitted  to  mingle  with  careless  and  profa*ne 
children,  and  soon  began  to  learn  their  ways.  Soon  after 
my  father's  marriage  I  was  sent  to  a  boarding-school  in 
Essex,  where  the  imprudent  severity  of  the  master  almost 
broke  my  spirit  and  relish  for  books.  With  him  I  forgot  the 
first  principles  and  rules  of  arithmetic,  which  my  mother 
had  taught  me  years  before.  I  staid  there  two  years:  in  the 
last  of  the  two,  a  new  usher  coming,  who  observed  and 
suited  my  temper,  I  took  to  the  Latin  with  great  eagerness; 
so  that  before  I  was  ten  years  old  I  reached  and  maintained 
the  first  post  in  the  second  class,  which  in  that  school  read 
Tully  and  Virgil.  I  believe  I  was  pushed  forward  too  fast, 


10 


LIFE  OP  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[10 


and  therefore,  not  being  grounded,  I  soon  lost  all  I  had 
learned ;  (for  I  left  school  in  my  tenth  year ;)  and  when  I 
long  afterward  undertook  the  Latin  language  from  books,  I 
think  I  had  little,  if  any,  advantage  from  what  I  had  learned 
before. 

My  father's  second  marriage  was  from  a  family  in  Essex; 
and  when  I  was  eleven  years  old  he  took  me  with  him  to 
sea.  He  was  a  man  of  remarkable  good  sense,  and  great 
knowledge  of  the  world;  he  took  great  care  of  my  morals, 
but  could  not  supply  my  mother's  part.  Having  been  edu- 
cated himself  in  Spain,  he  always  observed  an  air  of  dis- 
tance and  severity  in  his  carriage,  which  overawed  and 
discouraged  my  spirit.  I  was  always  in  fear  when  before 
him,  and  therefore  he  had  the  less  influence.  From  that  time 
to  the  year  1742,  I  made  several  voyages ;  but  with  consi- 
derable intervals  between ;  which  were  chiefly  spent  in  the 
country,  excepting  a  few  months  in  my  fifteenth  year,  when 
I  was  placed  upon  a  very  advantageous  prospect  at  Alicant 
in  Spain.  But  my  unsettled  behavior,  and  impatience  of 
restraint,  rendered  that  design  abortive. 

In  this  period,  my  temper  and  conduct  were  exceedingly 
various.  At  school,  or  soon  after,  I  had  little  concern  about 
religion,  and  easily  received  very  ill  impressions.  But  I  was 
often  disturbed  with  convictions.  I  was  fond  of  reading,  from 
a  child.  Among  other  books,  Bennet's  Christian  Oratory 
often  came  in  my  way;  and  though  I  understood  but  little 
of  it,  the  course  of  life  therein  recommended  appeared  very 
desirable,  and  I  was  inclined  to  attempt  it.  I  began  to  pray, 
to  read  the  Scripture,  and  keep  a  sort  of  diary.  I  was  pre- 
sently religious,  in  my  own  eyes ;  but,  alas !  this  seeming 
goodness  had  no  solid  foundation,  but  passed  away  like  a 
morning-cloud,  or  the  early  dew.  I  was  soon  weary,  gra- 
dually gave  it  up,  and  became  worse  than  before.  Instead 
of  prayer,  1  learned  to  curse  and  blaspheme,  and  was  ex- 
ceedingly wicked  when  not  under  my  parent's  view.  All 
this  was  before  I  was  twelve  years  old.  About  that  time  I 
had  a  dangerous  fall  from  a  horse :  I  was  thrown,  I  believe, 
within  a  few  inches  of  a  hedge-row  newly  cut  down.  I  got 
no  hurt ;  but  could  not  avoid  taking  notice  of  a  gracious 
providence  in  my  deliverance ;  for  had  I  fallen  upon  the 
stakes,  I  had  inevitably  been  killed.  My  conscience  sug- 
gested to  me  the  dreadful  consequences,  if,  in  such  a  state 


11] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


II 


I  had  been  summoned  to  appear  before  God.  I  presently 
broke  off  from  my  profane  practices,  and  appeared  quite 
altered.  But  it  was  not  long  before  I  declined  again.  These 
struggles  between  sin  and  conscience  were  often  repeated ; 
but  the  consequence  was,  that  every  relapse  sunk  me  into 
still  greater  depths  of  wickedness.  I  was  once  roused  by  the 
loss  of  an  intimate  companion.  We  had  agreed  to  go  on 
board  a  man  of  war;  (I  think  it  was  on  the  Sabbath;)  but  I 
providentially  came  too  late  ;  the  boat  was  overset,  and  he 
and  several  others  were  drowned.  I  was  invited  to  the 
funeral  of  my  play-fellow,  and  was  exceedingly  affected,  to 
think  that  by  a  delay  of  a  few  minutes  (which  had  much 
displeased  and  angered  me  till  I  saw  the  event)  my  life  had 
been  preserved.  However,  this  likewise  was  soon  forgot. 
At  another  time,  the  perusal  of  the  Family  Instructor  put  me 
upon  a  partial  and  transient  reformation.  In  brief,  though  I 
cannot  distinctly  relate  particulars,  I  think  I  took  up  and 
laid  aside  a  religious  profession  three  or  four  different  times 
before  I  was  sixteen  years  of  age :  but  all  this  while  my 
heart  was  insincere.  I  often  saw  the  necessity  of  religion 
as  a  means  of  escaping  hell ;  but  I  loved  sin,  and  was  unwill- 
ing to  forsake  it.  Instances  of  this,  I  can  remember,  were 
frequent.  In  the  midst  of  all  my  forms,  I  was  so  strangely 
blind  and  stupid,  that  sometimes  when  I  have  been  deter- 
mined upon  things  which  I  knew  were  sinful,  and  contrary 
to  my  duty,  I  could  not  go  on  quietly  till  I  had  first  des- 
patched my  ordinary  task  of  prayer,  in  which  I  have 
grudged  every  moment  of  my  time  ;  and  when  this  was 
finished,  my  conscience  was  in  some  measure  pacified,  and 
I  could  rush  into  folly  with  little  remorse. 

My  last  reform  was  the  most  remarkable,  both  for  degree 
and  continuance.  Of  this  period,  at  least  of  some  part  of  it, 
I  may  say  in  the  Apostle's  words,  "  After  the  straitest  sect 
of  our  religion,  I  lived  a  Pharisee."  I  did  every  thing  that 
might  be  expected  from  a  person  entirely  ignorant  of  God's 
righteousness,  and  desirous  to  establish  his  own.  I  spent  the 
greatest  part  of  every  day  in  reading  the  Scriptures,  medi- 
tation, and  prayer.  I  fasted  often ;  I  even  abstained  from  all 
animal  food  for  three  months;  I  would  hardly  answer  a 
question  for  fear  of  speaking  an  idle  word.  I  seemed  to 
bemoan  my  former  miscarriages  very  earnestly,  sometimes 
with  tears.  In  short,  I  became  an  ascetic,  and  endeavored, 


12 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[12 


so  far  as  my  situation  would  permit,  to  renounce  society, 
that  I  might  avoid  temptation.  I  continued  in  this  serious 
mood  (I  cannot  give  it  a  higher  title)  for  more  than  two 
years  without  any  considerable  breaking  off:  but  it  was  a 
poor  religion  ;  it  left  me,  in  many  respects,  under  the  power 
of  sin;  and,  so  far  as  it  prevailed,  only  tended  to  make  me 
gloomy,  stupid,  unsociable,  and  useless. 

Such  was  the  frame  of  my  mind  when  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  a  work  of  Lord  Shaftesbury's.  I  saw  the 
second  volume  of  his  Characteristics  in  a  petty  shop  at  Mid- 
dleburg,  in  Holland.  The  title  allured  me  to  buy  it,  and  the 
style  and  manner  gave  me  great  pleasure  in  reading,  espe- 
cially the  second  piece,  which  his  lordship,  with  great  pro- 
priety, has  entitled  A  Rhapsody.  Nothing  could  be  more 
suited  to  the  romantic  turn  of  my  mind  than  the  address  of 
this  pompous  declamation.  Of  the  design  and  tendency  I 
was  not  aware :  I  thought  the  author  a  most  religious  person, 
and  that  I  had  only  to  follow  him  and  be  happy.  Thus,  with 
fine  words,  and  fair  speeches,  my  simple  heart  was  beguiled. 
This  book  was  always  in  my  hand :  I  read  it  till  I  could  very 
nearly  repeat  the  Rhapsody,  word  for  word,  from  beginning 
to  end.  No  immediate  effect  followed ;  but  it  operated  like 
a  slow  poison,  and  prepared  the  way  for  all  that  followed. 

This  letter  brings  my  history  down  to  December,  1742. 
1  was  then  lately  returned  from  a  voyage ;  and  my  father 
not  intending  me  for  the  sea  again,  was  thinking  how  to 
settle  me  in  the  world  :  but  I  had  little  life  or  spirit  for  busi- 
ness ;  I  knew  but  little  of  men  and  things.  I  was  fond  of  a 
visionary  scheme  of  a  contemplative  life,  a  medley  of  reli- 
gion, philosophy,  and  indolence ;  and  was  quite  averse  to 
the  thoughts  of  an  industrious  application  to  business.  At 
length  a  merchant  in  Liverpool,  an  intimate  friend  of  my 
father's,  (to  whom,  as  the  instrument  of  God's  goodness,  I 
have  since  been  chiefly  indebted  for  all  my  earthly  com- 
forts,) proposed  to  send  me  for  some  years  to  Jamaica,  and 
to  charge  himself  with  the  care  of  my  future  fortune.  I  con- 
sented to  this ;  and  every  thing  was  prepared  for  my  voyage. 
I  was  upon  the  point  of  setting  out  the  following  week.  In 
the  mean  time  my  father  sent  me  on  some  business  to  a 
place  a  few  miles  beyond  Maidstone,  in  Kent;  and  this  little 
journey,  which  was  to  have  been  only  for  three  or  four  days, 
occasioned  a  sudden  and  remarkable  turn,  which  roused 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


13 


me  from  the  habitual  indolence  I  had  contracted,  and  gave 
rise  to  the  series  of  uncommon  dispensations,  of  which  you 
desire  a  more  particular  account.  So  true  it  is,  that  "  the 
way  of  man  is  not  in  himself ;  it  is  not  in  man  that  walketh 
io  direct  his  steps." 


LETTER  III. 

A  few  days  before  my  intended  journey  into  Kent,  I  re- 
ceived an  invitation  to  visit  a  family  in  that  county.  They 
were  distant  relations,  but  very  intimate  friends  of  my  dear 
mother.  She  died  in  their  house ;  but  a  coolness  took  place 
upon  my  father's  second  marriage,  and  I  had  heard  nothing 
of  them  for  many  years.  As  my  road  lay  within  half  a  mile 
of  their  house,  I  obtained  my  father's  leave  to  call  on. them. 
I  was,  however,  very  indifferent  about  it,  and  sometimes 
thought  of  passing  on  :  however,  I  went.  I  was  known  at 
first  sight,  before  I  could  tell  my  name,  and  met  with  the 
kindest  reception,  as  the  child  of  a  dear  deceased  friend. 
My  friends  had  two  daughters.  The  eldest  (as  I  understood 
some  years  afterward)  had  been  often  considered  by  her 
mother  and  mine,  as  a  future  wife  for  me,  from  the  time  of 
her  birth.  I  know,  indeed,  that  intimate  friends  frequently 
amuse  themselves  with  such  distant  prospects  for  their  chil- 
dren, and  that  they  miscarry  much  oftener  than  succeed.  I 
do  not  say  that  my  mother  predicted  what  was  to  happen, 
yet  there  was  something  remarkable  in  the  manner  of  its 
taking  place.  All  intercourse  between  the  families  had  been 
long  broken  off;  I  was  going  into  a  foreign  country,  and 
only  called  to  pay  a  hasty  visit ;  and  this  I  should  not  have 
thought  of,  but  for  a  message  received  just  at  that  crisis,  for 
1  had  not  been  invited  at  any  time  before.  Thus  the  cir- 
cumstances were  precarious  in  the  highest  degree,  and  the 
event  was  as  extraordinary.  Almost  at  the  first  sight  of  this 
girl  (for  she  was  then  under  fourteen)  I  was  impressed  with 
an  affection  for  her,  which  never  abated  or  lost  its  influ- 
ence a  single  moment  in  my  heart  from  that  hour.  In  de- 
gree, it  actually  equalled  all  that  the  writers  of  romance 
have  imagined ;  in  duration,  it  was  unalterable.  I  soon  lost 
all  sense  of  religion,  and  became  deaf  to  the  remonstran- 
ces of  conscience  and  prudence  ;  but  my  regard  for  her  was 


14 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[14 


always  the  same ;  and  I  may  perhaps  venture  to  say,  that 
none  of  the  scenes  of  misery  and  wickedness  I  afterward  ex- 
perienced, ever  banished  her  a  single  hour  together  from 
my  waking  thoughts,  for  the  seven  following  years. 

Give  me  leave,  Sir,  to  reflect  a  little  upon  this  unex- 
pected incident,  and  to  consider  its  influence  upon  my  fu- 
ture life,  and  how  far  it  was  subservient  to  the  views  of 
Divine  Providence  concerning  me ;  which  seem  to  have 
been  twofold ;  that  by  being  given  up  for  a  while  to  the 
consequences  of  my  own  wilfulness,  and  afterward  reclaim- 
ed by  a  high  hand,  my  case,  so  far  as  it  should  be  known, 
might  be  both  a  warning  and  an  encouragement  to  others. 

In  the  first  place,  hardly  any  thing  less  than  this  violent 
and  commanding  passion  would  have  been  sufficient  to 
awaken  me  from  the  dull  melancholy  habit  I  had  contract- 
ed. I  was  almost  a  misanthrope,  notwithstanding  I  so  much 
admired  the  pictures  of  virtue  and  benevolence,  as  drawn  by 
lord  Shaftesbury ;  but  now  my  reluctance  to  active  life  was 
overpowered  at  once,  and  I  was  willing  to  be  or  to  do  any 
thing  which  might  subserve  the  accomplishment  of  my 
wishes  at  some  future  time. 

Farther,  when  I  afterward  made  shipwreck  of  faith,  hope, 
and  conscience,  my  love  to  this  person  was  the  only  remain- 
ing principle  which  in  any  degree  supplied  their  place  ;  and 
the  bare  possibility  of  seeing  her  again,  was  the  only  pre- 
sent and  obvious  means  of  restraining  me  from  the  most 
horrid  designs  against  myself  and  others. 

But  then  the  ill  effects  it  brought  upon  me  counterba- 
lanced these  advantages.  The  interval  usually  styled  the 
time  of  courtship,  is  indeed  a  pleasing  part  of  life,  where 
there  is  a  mutual  affection,  the  consent  of  friends,  a  reason- 
able prospect  as  to  settlement,  and  the  whole  is  conducted 
in  a  prudential  manner,  and  in  subordination  to  the  will  and 
fear  of  God.  When  things  are  thus  situated,  it  is  a  blessing 
to  be  susceptive  of  the  tender  passions.  But  when  these 
concomitants  are  wanting,  what  we  call  love,  is  the  most  tor- 
menting passion  in  itself,  and  the  most  destructive  in  its  con- 
sequences, that  can  be  named.  And  they  were  all  wanting 
in  my  case.  I  durst  not  mention  it  to  her  friends,  or  to  my 
own,  nor  indeed,  for  a  considerable  time,  to  herself,  as  I 
could  make  no  proposals :  it  remained  as  a  dark  fire,  locked 
up  in  my  own  breast,  which  gave  me  constant  uneasiness 


15j 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


15 


By  introducing  an  idolatrous  regard  to  a  creature,  it  greatly 
weakened  my  sense  of  religion,  and  made  farther  way  for 
the  entrance  of  infidel  principles ;  and  though  it  seemed  to 
promise  great  things,  as  an  incentive  to  diligence  and  activity 
in  life,  in  reality  it  performed  nothing.  I  often  formed  mighty 
projects  in  my  mind  of  what  I  would  willingly  do  or  suffer 
for  the  sake  of  her  I  loved ;  yet  while  I  could  have  her 
company,  I  was  incapable  of  forcing  myself  away,  to  im- 
prove opportunities  that  offered.  Still  less  could  it  do  in 
regulating  my  conduct.  It  did  not  prevent  me  from  engaging 
in  a  long  train  of  excess  and  riot,  utterly  unworthy  the  ho- 
norable pretensions  I  had  formed.  And  though,  through  the 
wonderful  interposition  of  Divine  Goodness,  the  maze  of  my 
follies  was  at  length  unravelled,  and  my  wishes  crowned  in 
such  a  manner  as  overpaid  my  sufferings,  yet  I  am  sure  I 
would  not  go  through  the  same  series  of  trouble  again  to 
possess  all  the  treasures  of  both  the  Indies.  I  have  enlarged 
more  than  I  intended  on  this  point,  as  perhaps  these  papers 
may  be  useful  to  caution  others  against  indulging  an  ungo- 
vernable passion,  by  my  painful  experience.  How  often  may 
such  headstrong  votaries  be  said  "  to  sow  the  wind,  and  to 
reap  the  whirlwind  !" 

My  heart  being  now  fixed  and  riveted  to  a  particular 
object,  I  considered  every  thing  I  was  concerned  with  in  a 
new  light.  I  concluded  it  would  be  absolutely  impossible  to 
live  at  such  a  distance  as  Jamaica,  for  a  term  of  four  or  five 
years;  and  therefore  determined,  at  all  events,  that  I  would 
not  go.  I  could  not  bear  either  to  acquaint  my  father  with 
the  true  reason,  or  to  invent  a  false  one;  therefore,  without 
taking  any  notice  to  him  why  I  did  so,  I  stayed  three  weeks, 
instead  of  three  days,  in  Kent,  till  I  thought  (as  it  proved) 
the  opportunity  would  be  lost,  and  the  ships  sailed.  I  then 
returned  to  London.  I  had  highly  displeased  my  father  by 
this  disobedience ;  but  he  was  more  easily  reconciled  than 
I  could  have  expected.  In  a  little  time  I  sailed  with  a  friend 
of  his  to  Venice.  In  this  voyage  I  was  exposed  to  the  com- 
pany and  ill-example  of  the  common  sailors,  among  whom 
I  ranked.  Importunity  and  opportunity  presenting  every 
day,  I  once  more  began  to  relax  from  the  sobriety  and  order 
which  I  had  observed,  in  some  degree,  for  more  than  two 
years.  I  was  sometimes  pierced  with  sharp  convictions ;  but 
though  I  made  a  few  faint  efforts  to  stop,  I  at  no  time  re- 


16 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[16 


covered  from  this  declension,  as  I  had  done  from  several 
before :  I  did  not  indeed,  as  yet,  turn  out  profligate  ;  but  1 
was  making  large  strides  toward  a  total  apostacy  from  God. 
The  most  remarkable  check  and  alarm  I  received  (and,  for 
what  I  know,  the  last)  was  by  a  dream,  which  made  a  very 
strong,  though  not  abiding  impression  upon  my  mind. 

The  consideration  of  whom  I  am  writing  to,  renders  it 
needless  for  me  either  to  enter  upon  a  discussion  of  the 
nature  of  dreams  in  general,  or  to  make  an  apology  for  re- 
cording my  own.  Those  who  acknowledge  Scripture  will 
allow  that  there  have  been  monitory  and  supernatural 
dreams,  evident  communications  from  heaven,  either  di- 
recting or  foreteling  future  events:  and  those  who  are  ac- 
quainted with  the  history  and  experience  of  the  people  of 
God,  are  well  assured,  that  such  intimations  "have  not  been 
totally  withheld  in  any  period  down  to  the  present  times. 
Reason,  far  from  contradicting  this  supposition,  strongly 
pleads  for  it,  where  the  process  of  reasoning  is  rightly  under- 
stood and  carefully  pursued.  So  that  a  late  eminent  writer, 
who  I  presume  is  not  generally  charged  with  enthusiasm, 
undertakes  to  prove,  that  the  phaenomenon  of  dreaming  is 
inexplicable  at  least,  if  not  absolutely  impossible,  without 
taking  in  the  agency  and  intervention  of  spiritual  beings,  to 
us  invisible.  For  my  own  part,  I  can  say,  without  scruple, 
"  The  dream  is  certain,  and  the  interpretation  thereof  sure." 
I  am  sure  I  dreamed  to  the  following  effect ;  and  I  cannot 
doubt,  from  what  I  have  seen  since,  that  it  had  a  direct  and 
easy  application  to  my  own  circumstances,  to  the  dangers 
in  which  I  was  about  to  plunge  myself,  and  to  the  unmerited 
deliverance  and  mercy  which  God  would  be  pleased  to 
afford  me  in  the  time  of  my  distress. 

Though  1  have  written  out  a  relation  of  this  dream  more 
than  once  for  others,  it  has  happened  that  I  never  reserved 
a  copy ;  but  the  principal  incidents  are  so  deeply  engraven 
on  my  memory,  that  I  believe  I  am  not  liable  to  any  consi- 
derable variation  in  repeating  the  account.  The  scene  pre- 
sented to  my  imagination  was  the  harbor  of  Venice,  where 
we  had  lately  been.  I  thought  it  was  night,  and  my  watch 
upon  the  deck ;  and  that,  as  I  was  walking  to  and  fro  by 
myself  a  person  came  to  me,  (I  do  not  remember  from 
whence,)  and  brought  me  a  ring,  with  an  express  charge  to 
keep  it  carefully ;  assuring  me,  that  white  I  preserved  that 


17] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


17 


ring,  I  should  be  happy  and  successful ;  but  if  I  lost  or  part- 
ed with  it,  1  must  expect  nothing  but  trouble  and  misery 
I  accepted  the  present  and  the  terms  willingly,  not  in  the 
least  doubting  my  own  care  to  preserve  it,  and  highly  satis- 
fied to  have  my  happiness  in  my  own  keeping.  I  was  en- 
gaged in  these  thoughts,  when  a  second  person  came  to  me, 
and  observing  the  ring  on  my  finger,  took  occasion  to  ask 
me  some  questions  concerning  it.  I  readily  told  him  its  vir- 
tues ;  and  his  answer  expressed  a  surprise  at  my  weakness, 
in  expecting  such  effects  from  a  ring.  I  think  he  reasoned 
with  me  some  time  upon  the  impossibility  of  the  thing;  and 
at  length  urged  me,  in  direct  terms,  to  throw  it  away.  At 
first  I  was  shocked  at  the  proposal ;  but  his  insinuations 
prevailed.  I  began  to  reason  and  doubt  myself ;  and  at  last 
plucked  it  off  my  finger,  and  dropped  it  over  the  ship's  side 
into  the  water  ;  which  it  had  no  sooner  touched,  than  I  saw, 
the  same  instant,  a  terrible  fire  burst  out  from  a  range  of 
the  mountains,  (a  part  of  the  Alps,)  which  appeared  at  some 
distance  behind  the  city  of  Venice.  I  saw  the  hills  as  dis- 
tinct as  if  awake,  and  they  were  all  in  flames.  I  perceived, 
too  late,  my  folly ;  and  my  tempter,  with  an  air  of  insult, 
informed  me,  that  all  the  mercy  God  had  in  reserve  for  me 
was  comprised  in  that  ring,  which  I  had  wilfully  thrown 
away.  I  understood  that  I  must  now  go  with  him  to  the 
burning  mountains ;  and  that  all  the  flames  I  saw  were  kin- 
dled upon  my  account.  I  trembled,  and  was  in  a  great 
agony ;  so  that  it  was  surprising  I  did  not  then  awake :  but 
my  dream  continued ;  and  when  I  thought  myself  upon  the 
point  of  a  constrained  departure,  and  stood,  self-condemn- 
ed, without  plea  or  hope,  suddenly,  either  a  third  person, 
or  the  same  who  brought  the  ring  at  first,  came  to  me,  (I  am 
not  certain  whici^)  and  demanded  the  cause  of  my  grief.  I 
told  him  the  plain  case,  confessing  that  I  had  ruined  myself 
wilfully,  and  deserved  no  pity.  He  blamed  my  rashness ; 
and  asked  if  1  should  be  wiser  supposing  I  had  my  ring 
again?  I  could  hardly  answer  to  this  ;  for  I  thought  it  was 
gone  beyond  recall.  I  believe,  indeed,  I  had  not  time  to 
answer,  before  I  saw  this  unexpected  friend  go  down  under 
the  water,  just  in  the  spot  where  I  had  dropped  it ;  and  he 
soon  returned,  bringing  the  ring  with  him.  The  moment  ho 
came  on  board  the  flames  in  the  mountains  were  extin- 
guished, and  my  seducer  left  me.    Then  was  "  the  prey 


IS 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[18 


taken  from  the  hand  of  the  mighty,  and  the  lawful  captive 
delivered."  My  fears  were  at  an  end,  and  with  joy  and 
gratitude  I  approached  my  kind  deliverer  to  receive  the  ring 
again ;  but  he  refused  to  return  it,  and  spoke  to  this  effect : 
If  you  should  be  intrusted  with  this  ring  again,  you  would 
very  soon  bring  yourself  into  the  same  distress ;  you  are 
not  able  to  keep  it ;  but  I  will  preserve  it  for  you,  and, 
whenever  it  is  needful,  will  produce  it  in  your  behalf." 
Upon  this  I  awoke  in  a  state  of  mind  not  easy  to  be  de- 
scribed :  I  could  hardly  eat,  or  sleep,  or  transact  my  neces- 
sary business,  for  two  or  three  days.  But  the  impression 
soon  wore  off,  and  in  a  little  time  I  totally  forgot  it ;  and  I 
think  it  hardly  occurred  to  my  mind  again  till  several  years 
afterward.  It  will  appear,  in  the  course  of  these  papers, 
that  a  time  came  when  I  found  myself  in  circumstances 
very  nearly  resembling  those  suggested  by  this  extraordinary 
dream,  when  I  stood  helpless  and  hopeless  upon  the  brink 
of  an  awful  eternity  ;  and  I  doubt  not  that,  had  the  eyes  of 
my  mind  been  then  opened,  I  should  have  seen  my  grand 
enemy,  who  had  seduced  me  wilfully  to  renounce  and  cast 
away  my  religious  profession,  and  to  involve  myself  in  the 
most  complicated  crimes,  pleased  with  my  agonies,  and 
waiting  for  a  permission  to  seize  and  bear  away  my  soul  to 
his  place  of  torment.  I  should  perhaps  have  seen  likewise, 
that  Jesus,  whom  I  had  persecuted  and  defied,  rebuking  the 
adversary,  challenging  me  for  his  own,  as  a  brand  plucked 
out  of  the  fire,  and  saying,  "  Deliver  him  from  going  down 
to  the  pit :  I  have  found  a  ransom."  However,  though  I 
saw  not  these  things,  I  found  the  benefit ;  I  obtained  mercy. 
The  Lord  answered  for  me  in  the  day  of  my  distress ;  and 
blessed  be  his  name,  he  who  restored  the  ring,  (or  what  was 
signified  by  it,)  vouchsafes  to  keep  it.  O^hat  an  unspeak- 
able comfort  is  this,  that  I  am  not  in  my  own  keeping ! — 
"  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd."  I  have  been  enabled  to  trust 
my  all  in  his  hands ;  and  I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed. 
Satan  still  desires  to  have  me,  that  he  might  sift  me  as  wheat ; 
but  my  Savior  has  prayed  for  me,  that  my  faith  may  not  fail. 
Here  is  my  security  and  power;  a  bulwark  against  which 
the  gates  of  hell  cannot  prevail.  But  for  this,  many  a  time 
and  often  (if  possible)  I  should  have  ruined  myself  since  my 
first  deliverance  ;  nay,  I  should  fall,  and  stumble,  and  perish 
still,  after  all  that  the  Lord  has  done  for  me.,  if  his  faithful- 


19] 


LIFE  OF  KEV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


19 


ness  were  not  engaged  in  my  behalf,  to  be  my  sun  and  shield 
even  unto  death. — "  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul." 

Nothing  very  remarkable  occurred  in  the  following  part  of 
that  voyage.  I  returned  home  in  December,  1743,  and  soon 
after  repeated  my  visit  to  Kent,  where  I  protracted  my  stay 
in  the  same  imprudent  manner  I  had  done  before  j,  which 
again  disappointed  my  father's  designs  in  my  favor,  and  al- 
most provoked  him  to  disown  me.  Before  any  thing  suita- 
ble offered  again,  I  was  impressed,  (owing  entirely  to  my 
own  thoughtless  conduct,  which  was  all  of  a  piece,)  and  put 
on  board  a  tender:  it  was  at  a  critical  juncture,  when  the 
French  fleets  were  hovering  upon  our  coast,  so  that  my 
father  was  unable  to  procure  my  release.  In  a  few  days  I 
was  sent  on  board  the  Harwich  man-of-war,  at  the  Nore  : 
I  entered  here  upon  quite  a  new  scene  of  life,  and  endured 
much  hardship  for  about  a  month.  My  father  was  then  will- 
ing that  I  should  remain  in  the  navy,  as  a  war  was  daily  ex- 
pected, and  procured  me  a  recommendation  to  the  captain, 
who  took  me  upon  the  quarter-deck  as  a  midshipman.  1  had 
now  an  easy  life  as  to  externals,  and  might  have  gained  re- 
spect;  but  my  mind  was  unsettled,  and  my  behavior  very 
indifferent.  I  here  met  with  companions  who  completed  the 
ruin  of  my  principles  ;  and  though  I  affected  to  talk  of  virtue, 
and  was  not  so  outwardly  abandoned  as  afterward,  yet  my 
delight  and  habitual  practice  was  wickedness.  My  chief  in- 
timate was  a  person  of  exceeding  good  natural  talents,  and 
much  observation ;  he  was  the  greatest  master  of  what  is 
called  the  free-thinking  scheme  I  remember  to  have  met  with, 
and  knew  how  to  insinuate  his  sentiments  in  the  most  plau- 
sible way.  And  his  zeal  was  equal  to  his  address  :  he  could 
hardly  have  labored  more  in  the  cause,  if  he  had  expected 
to  gain  heaven  by  it.  Allow  me  to  add,  while  I  think  of  it, 
that  this  man  whom  I  honored  as  my  master,  and  whose 
practice  I  adopted  so  eagerly,  perished  in  the  same  way  as 
I  expected  to  have  done.  I  have  been  told  that  he  was 
overtaken  in  a  voyage  from  Lisbon  by  a  violent  storm ;  the 
vessel  and  people  escaped,  but  a  great  sea  broke  on  board, 
and  swept  him  into  eternity.  Thus  the  Lord  spares  or  pu- 
nishes, according  to  his  sovereign  pleasure  !  But  to  return  : 
I  was  fond  of  his  company  ;  and  having  myself  a  smattering 
of  books,  was  eager  enough  to  show  my  reading.  He  soon 
perceived  my  case,  that  I  had  not  wholly  broken  through 


20 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[20 


the  restraints  of  conscience,  and  therefore  did  not  shock  mo 
at  first  with  too  broad  intimations  of  his  design  ;  he  rather, 
as  I  thought,  spoke  favorably  of  religion ;  but  when  he  had 
gained  my  confidence,  he  began  to  speak  plainer ;  and  per- 
ceiving my  ignorant  attachment  to  the  characteristics,  he 
joined  issue  with  me  upon  that  book,  and  convinced  me  that 
I  had  never  understood  it.  In  a  word,  he  so  plied  me  with 
objections  and  arguments,  that  my  depraved  heart  was  soon 
gained,  and  I  entered  into  his  plan  with  all  my  spirit.  Thus, 
like  an  unwary  sailor,  who  quits  his  port  just  before  a  rising 
storm,  I  renounced  the  hopes  and  comforts  of  the  Gospel 
at  the  very  time  when  every  other  comfort  was  about  to 
fail  me. 

In  December,  1744,  the  Harwich  was  in  the  Downs, 
bound  to  the  East  Indies.  The  captain  gave  me  liberty  to 
go  on  shore  for  a  day;  but  without  consulting  prudence,  or 
regarding  consequences,  I  took  horse,  and  following  the 
dictates  of  my  restless  passion,  I  went  to  take  a  last  leave 
of  her  I  loved.  I  had  little  satisfaction  in  the  interview,  as  I 
was  sensible  that  I  was  taking  pains  to  multiply  my  own 
troubles.  The  short  time  I  could  stay  passed  like  a  dream ; 
and  on  new-year's  day,  1745, 1  took  nvy  leave  to  return  to 
the  ship.  The  captain  was  prevailed  on  to  excuse  my  ab- 
sence ;  but  this  rash  step  (especially  as  it  was  not  the  first 
liberty  of  the  kind  I  had  taken)  highly  displeased  him,  and 
lost  me  his  favor,  which  I  never  recovered. 

At  length  we  sailed  from  Spithead  with  a  very  large  fleet. 
We  put  into  Torbay  with  a  change  of  wind  ;  but  it  return- 
ing fair  again,  we  sailed  the  next  day.  Several  of  our  fleet 
were  lost  in  attempting  to  leave  that  place ;  but  the  follow- 
ing night  the  whole  fleet  was  greatly  endangered  upon  the 
coast  of  Cornwall,  by  a  storm  from  the  southward.  The 
darkness  of  the  night,  and  the  number  of  the  vessels,  occa- 
sioned much  confusion  and  damage.  Our  ship,  though  seve- 
ral times  in  imminent  danger  of  being  run  down  by  other 
vessels,  escaped  unhurt ;  but  many  suffered  much,  particu- 
larly the  Admiral.  This  occasioned  our  putting  back  to 
Plymouth. 

While  we  lay  at  Plymouth,  I  heard  that  my  father,  who 
had  interest  in  some  of  the  ships  lately  lost,  was  come  down 
to  Torbay.  He  had  a  connection  at  that  time  with  the  Afri- 
can Company.   I  thought,  if  I  could  get  to  him,  he  might 


21] 


LIFE  OF  REV.   JOHN  NEWTON. 


2] 


easily  introduce  me  into  that  service,  which  would  he  hetter 
than  pursuing  a  long,  uncertain  voyage  to  the  East  Indies. 
It  was  a  maxim  with  me  in  those  unhappy  days,  never  to 
deliberate :  the  thought  hardly  occurred  to  me,  but  I  was  re- 
solved to  leave  the  ship  at  all  events;  I  did  so,  and  in  the 
wrongest  manner  possible.  I  was  sent  one  day  in  the  boat, 
to  take  care  that  none  of  the  people  deserted ;  but  1  betray- 
ed my  trust,  and  went  off  myself.  I  knew  not  what  road  to 
take,  and  durst  not  ask,  for  fear  of  being  suspected;  yet 
having  some  general  idea  of  the  country,  I  guessed  right ; 
and  when  I  had  travelled  some  miles,  I  found,  upon  inquiry, 
that  I  was  on  the  road  to  Dartmouth.  All  went  smoothly 
that  day,  and  part  of  the  next ;  I  walked  apace,  and  expect- 
ed to  have  been  with  my  father  in  about  two  hours,  when 
I  was  met  by  a  small  party  of  soldiers.  I  could  not  avoid  or 
deceive  them.  They  brought  me  back  to  Plymouth ;  I 
walked  through  the  streets  guarded  like  a  felon.  My  heart 
was  full  of  indignation,  shame,  and  fear.  I  was  confined  two 
days  in  the  guard-house,  then  sent  on  board  my  ship,  kept 
a  while  in  irons,  then  publicly  stripped  and  whipped ;  after 
which  I  was  degraded  from  my  office,  and  all  my  former 
companions  forbidden  to  show  me  the  least  favor,  or  even 
to  speak  to  me.  As  midshipman,  I  had  been  entitled  to  some 
command,  which  (being  sufficiently  haughty  and  vain)  I  had 
not  been  backward  to  exert.  I  was  now,  in  my  turn,  brought 
down  to  a  level  with  the  lowest,  and  exposed  to  the  in- 
sults of  all. 

And,  as  my  present  situation  was  uncomfortable,  my  fu- 
ture prospects  were  still  worse ;  the  evils  I  suffered  were 
likely  to  grow  heavier  every  day.  While  my  catastrophe 
was  recent,  the  officers,  and  my  quondam  brethren,  were 
something  disposed  to  screen  me  from  ill  usage ;  but  during 
the  little  time  I  remained  with  them  afterward,  I  found 
them  cool  very  fast  in  their  endeavors  to  protect  me.  In- 
deed they  could  not  avoid  it  without  running  a  great  risk 
of  sharing  with  me ;  for  the  captain,  though  in  general  a 
humane  man,  who  behaved  very  well  to  the  ship's  company, 
was  almost  implacable  in  his  resentment  when  he  had  been 
greatly  offended,  and  took  several  occasions  to  show  him- 
self so  to  me ;  and  the  voyage  was  expected  to  be  (as  it 
proved)  for  five  years.  Yet  I  think  nothing  I  either  felt  or 
feared  distressed  me  so  much  as  to  see  myself  thus  forcibly 


22 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[22 


torn  away  from  the  object  of  my  affections  under  a  great 
improbability  of  seeing  her  again,  and  a  much  greater  of  re- 
turning in  such  a  manner  as  would  give  me  hopes  of  seeing 
her  mine.  Thus  I  was  as  miserable  on  all  hands  as  could 
well  be  imagined.  My  breast  was  filled  with  the  most  ex- 
cruciating passions,  eager  desire,  bitter  rage,  and  black  des- 
pair. Every  hour  exposed  me  to  some  new  insult  and  hard- 
ship, with  no  hope  of  relief  or  mitigation;  no  friend  to  take 
my  part,  or  to  listen  to  my  complaint.  Whether  I  looked 
inward  or  outward,  I  could  perceive  nothing  but  darkness 
and  misery.  I  think  no  case,  except  that  of  a  conscience 
%vounded  by  the  wrath  of  God,  could  be  more  dreadful  than 
mine :  I  cannot  express  with  what  wishfulness  and  regret  I 
cast  my  last  looks  upon  the  English  shore :  I  kept  my  eyes 
fixed  upon  it  till,  the  ship's  distance  increasing,  it  insensibly 
disappeared ;  and  when  I  could  see  it  no  longer,  I  was 
tempted  to  throw  myself  into  the  sea,  which  (according  to 
the  wicked  system  I  had  adopted)  would  put  a  period  to  all 
my  sorrows  at  once.  But  the  secret  hand  of  God  restrained 
me.  Help  me  to  praise  him,  dear  Sir,  for  his  wonderful 
goodness  to  the  most  unworthy  of  all  his  creatures. 


LETTER  IV 


Though  I  desired  your  instructions  as  to  the  manner  and 
extent  of  these  memoirs,  I  began  to  write  before  I  received 
them,  and  had  almost  finished  the  preceding  sheet  when 
your  favor  of  the  11th  came  to  hand.  I  shall  find  another 
occasion  to  acknowledge  my  sense  of  your  kind  expressions 
of  friendship,  which  I  pray  the  Lord  I  may  never  give  you 
cause  to  repent  of  or  withdraw;  at  present  I  shall  confine 
myself  to  what  more  particularly  relates  to  the  task  assigned 
me.  I  shall  obey  you,  Sir,  in  taking  notice  of  the  little  inci- 
dents you  recall  to  my  memory,  and  of  others  of  the  like 
nature,  which,  without  your  direction,  I  should  have  thought 
too  trivial,  and  too  much  my  own,  to  deserve  mentioning. 
When  I  began  the  eight  letters,  I  intended  to  say  no  more 
of  myself  than  might  be  necessary  to  illustrate  the  wonders 
of  divine  providence  and  grace  in  the  leading  turns  of  my 


23] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


23 


life ;  but  I  account  your  judgment  a  sufficient  warrant  for 
enlarging  my  plan. 

Amongst  other  things,  you  desired  a  more  explicit  ac- 
count of  the  state  and  progress  of  my  courtship,  as  it  is  usual- 
ly phrased.  This  was  the  point  in  which  I  thought  it  espe- 
cially became  me  to  be  very  brief;  but  1  submit  to  you  ;  and 
this  seems  a  proper  place  to  resume  it,  by  telling  you  how 
it  stood  at  the  time  of  my  leaving  England.  AVhen  my  in- 
clinations first  discovered  themselves,  both  parties  were  so 
young,  that  no  one  but  myself  considered  it  in  a  serious 
view.  It  served  for  tea-table  talk  amongst  our  friends ;  and 
nothing  farther  was  expected  from  it.  But  afterward,  when 
my  passion  seemed  to  have  abiding  effects,  so  that  in  an  in- 
terval of  two  years  it  was  not  at  all  abated ;  and  especially 
as  it  occasioned  me  to  act  without  any  regard  to  prudence 
or  interest,  or  my  father's  designs  ;  and  as  there  was  a  cool- 
ness between  him  and  the  family,  her  parents  began  to  con- 
sider it  as  a  matter  of  consequence ;  and  when  I  took  my 
last  leave  of  them,  her  mother,  at  the  same  time  that  she 
expressed  the  most  tender  affection  for  me,  as  if  I  had  been 
her  own  child,  told  me,  that,  though  she  had  no  objections 
to  make,  upon  a  supposition  that  at  a  maturer  age  there 
should  be  a  probability  of  our  engaging  upon  a  prudent  pros- 
pect, yet  as  things  then  stood,  she  thought  herself  obliged  to 
interfere ;  and  therefore  desired  I  would  no  more  think  of 
returning  to  their  house,  unless  her  daughter  was  from  home, 
till  such  time  as  I  could  either  prevail  with  myself  entirely 
to  give  up  my  pretensions,  or  could  assure  her  that  I  had 
my  father's  express  consent  to  continue  them.  Much  de- 
pended on  Mrs.  N  's  part  in  this  affair  ;  it  was  some- 
thing difficult ;  but  though  she  was  young,  gay,  and  quite 
unpractised  in  such  matters,  she  was  directed  to  a  happy 
medium.  A  positive  encouragement,  or  an  absolute  refusal, 
would  have  been  attended  with  equal,  though  different  dis- 
advantages. But  without  much  studying  about  it,  I  found 
her  always  upon  her  guard :  she  had  penetration  to  see  her 
absolute  power  over  me,  and  prudence  to  make  a  proper 
use  of  it ;  she  would  neither  understand  my  hints,  nor  give 
me  room  to  come  to  a  direct  explanation.  She  has  said 
since,  that,  from  the  first  discovery  of  my  regard,  and  long 
before  the  thought  was  agreeable  to  her,  she  had  often  an 
unaccountable  impression  upon  her  mind,  that  sooner  or 


24  LIFE  OF  BEV.  JOHN  NEWTON.  [24 

later  she  should  be  mine.    Upon  these  terms  we  parted. 

I  now  return  to  my  voyage.  During  our  passage  to  Ma- 
deira I  was  a  prey  to  the  most  gloomy  thoughts.  Though 
I  had  well  deserved  all  I  met  with,  and  the  captain  might 
have  been  justified  if  he  had  carried  his  resentment  still  far- 
ther ;  yet  my  pride  at  that  time  suggested  that  I  had  been 
grossly  injured  :  and  this  so  far  wrought  upon  my  wicked 
heart,  that  I  actually  formed  designs  against  his  life ;  and 
this  was  one  reason  that  made  me  willing  to  prolong  my 
own.  I  was  sometimes  divided  between  the  two,  not  think- 
ing it  practicable  to  effect  both.  The  Lord  had  now,  to  ap- 
pearance, given  me  up  to  judicial  hardness;  I  was  capable 
of  any  thing.  I  had  not  the  least  fear  of  God  before  my 
eyes,  nor  (so  far  as  I  remember)  the  least  sensibility  of  con- 
science. I  was  possessed  of  so  strong  a  spirit  of  delusion, 
that  I  believed  my  own  lie,  and  was  firmly  persuaded  that 
after  death  I  should  cease  to  be.  Yet  the  Lord  preserved 
me  !  Some  intervals  of  sober  reflection  would  at  times  take 
place  :  when  I  have  chosen  death  rather  than  life,  a  ray  of 
hope  would  come  in  (though  there  was  Little  probability  for 
such  a  hope)  that  I  should  yet  see  better  days  ;  that  I  might 
again  return  to  England,  and  have  my  wishes  crowned,  if  I 
did  not  wilfully  throw  myself  away.   In  a  word,  my  love  to 

Mrs.  N  was  now  the  only  restraint  I  had  left.  Though 

I  neither  feared  God,  nor  regarded  men,  I  could  not  bear 
that  she  should  think  meanly  of  me  when  I  was  dead.  As, 
in  the  outward  concerns  of  life,  the  weakest  means  are  often 
employed  by  Divine  Providence  to  produce  great  effects, 
beyond  their  common  influence,  (as  when  a  disease,  for  in- 
stance, has  been  removed  by  a  fright,)  so  I  found  it  then  ; 
this  single  thought,  which  had  not  restrained  me  from  a 
thousand  smaller  evils,  proved  my  only  and  effectual  bar- 
rier against  the  greatest  and  most  fatal  temptations.  How 
long  I  could  have  supported  this  conflict,  or  what,  humanly 
speaking,  would  have  been  the  consequences  of  my  con- 
tinuing in  that  situation,  I  cannot  say ;  but  the  Lord,  whom 
I  little  thought  of,  knew  my  danger,  and  was  providing  for 
my  deliverance. 

Two  things  I  had  determined  when  at  Plymouth ;  that  I 
would  not  go  to  India,  and  that  I  would  go  to  Guinea ;  and 
such,  indeed,  was  the  Lord's  will  concerning  me  ;  but  they 
were  to  be  accomplished  in  his  way,  not  in  my  own.  We 


25] 


LIFE  OF   REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


25 


had  been  now  at  Madeira  some  time :  the  business  of  the 
fleet  was  completed,  and  we  were  to  sail  the  following  day. 
On  that  memorable  morning  I  was  late  in  bed,  and  had 
slept  longer,  but  that  one  of  the  midshipmen  (an  old  com- 
panion) came  down,  and,  between  jest  and  earnest,  bade 
me  rise  ;  and  as  I  did  not  immediately  comply,  he  cut  down 
the  hammock,  or  bed,  in  which  I  lay  ;  which  forced  me  to 
dress  myself.  I  was  very  angry,  but  durst  not  resent  it.  I 
was  little  aware  how  much  his  caprice  affected  me ;  and  that 
this  person,  who  had  no  design  in  what  he  did,  was  the  mes- 
senger of  God's  providence.  I  said  little,  but  went  upon 
deck,  where  I  that  moment  saw  a  man  putting  his  clothes 
into  a  boat,  who  told  me  he  was  going  to  leave  us.  Upon 
inquiring,  I  was  informed  that  two  men,  from  a  Guinea 
ship  which  lay  near  us,  had  entered  on  board  the  Harwich, 
and  that  the  commodore  (Sir  George  Pocock)  had  ordered 
the  captain  to  send  two  others  in  their  room.  My  heart 
instantly  burned  like  fire.  I  begged  the  boat  might  be  de- 
tained a  few  minutes  :  I  ran  to  the  lieutenants,  and  intreated 
them  to  intercede  with  the  captain,  that  I  might  be  dis- 
missed. Upon  this  occasion,  though  I  had  been  formerly 
upon  ill  terms  with  these  officers,  and  had  disobliged  them 
all  in  their  turns,  they  pitied  my  case,  and  appeared  ready 
to  serve  me.  The  captain,  who,  when  we  were  at  Ply- 
mouth, had  refused  to  exchange  me,  though  at  the  request 
of  Admiral  Medly,  was  now  easily  prevailed  on.  I  believe, 
in  little  more  than  half  an  hour  from  my  being  asleep  in  my 
bed,  I  saw  myself  discharged,  and  safe  on  board  another 
ship.  This  was  one  of  the  many  critical  turns  of  my  life,  in 
which  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  display  his  providence  and 
care,  by  causing  many  unexpected  circumstances  to  concur 
in  almost  an  instant  of  time.  These  sudden  opportunities 
were  several  times  repeated  ;  each  of  them  brought  me  into 
an  entire  new  scene  of  action,  and  they  were  usually  de- 
layed to  almost  the  last  moment  in  which  they  could  have 
taken  place. 

The  ship  I  went  on  board  was  bound  to  Sierra  Leone, 
and  the  adjacent  parts  of  what  is  called  the  Windward  Coast 
of  Africa.  The  commander,  I  found,  was  acquainted  with 
my  father :  he  received  me  very  kindly,  and  made  fair  pro- 
fessions of  assistance,  and  I  believe  would  have  been  my 
friend ;  but  without  making  the  least  advantage  of  former 

& 


26 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[26 


mistakes  and  troubles,  I  pursued  the  same  course ;  nay,  if 
possible,  I  acted  much  worse.  On  board  the  Harwich, 
though  my  principles  were  totally  corrupted,  yet,  as  upon 
my  first  going  there  I  was  in  some  degree  staid  and  serious, 
the  remembrance  of  this  made  me  ashamed  of  breaking  out 
in  that  notorious  manner  I  could  otherwise  have  indulged. 
But  now,  entering  amongst  strangers,  I  could  appear  without 
disguise ;  and  I  well  remember,  that,  while  1  was  passing 
from  the  one  ship  to  the  other,  this  was  one  reason  why  I 
rejoiced  in  the  exchange,  and  one  reflection  I  made  upon 
the  occasion,  namely,  "  that  I  now  might  be  as  abandoned 
as  I  pleased,  without  any  control;"  and  from  this  time  I  was 
exceedingly  vile  indeed,  little,  if  any  thing,  short  of  that  ani- 
mated description  of  an  almost  irrecoverable  state,  which 
we  have  in  2  Pet.  2  :  14.  I  not  only  sinned  with  a  high 
hand  myself,  but  made  it  my  study  to  tempt  and  seduce 
others  upon  every  occasion ;  nay,  1  eagerly  sought  occasion, 
sometimes  to  my  own  hazard  and  hurt.  One  natural  conse- 
quence of  this  carriage  was,  a  loss  of  the  favor  of  my  new 
captain ;  not  that  he  was  at  all  religious,  or  disliked  my 
wickedness  any  further  than  it  affected  his  interest,  but  1 
became  careless  and  disobedient :  I  did  not  please  him,  be- 
cause I  did  not  intend  it ;  and  as  he  was  a  man  of  an  odd 
temper  likewise,  we  the  more  easily  disagreed.  Besides,  I 
had  a  little  of  that  unluckly  wit,  which  can  do  little  more 
than  multiply  troubles  and  enemies  to  its  possessor ;  and, 
upon  some  imagined  affront,  I  made  a  song,  in  which  I  ridi- 
culed his  ship,  his  designs,  and  his  person,  and  soon  taught 
it  to  the  whole  ship's  company.  Such  was  the  ungrateful 
return  I  made  for  his  offers  of  friendship  and  protection.  I 
had  mentioned  no  names ;  but  the  allusion  was  plain  ;  and  he 
was  no  stranger  either  to  the  intention  or  the  author.  I  shall 
say  no  more  of  this  part  of  my  story  ;  let  it  be  buried  in  eter- 
nal silence.  But  let  me  not  be  silent  from  the  praise  of  that 
grace  which  could  pardon,  that  blood  which  could  expiate 
such  sins  as  mine.  Yea,  "  the  Ethiopian  may  change  his 
skin,  and  the  leopard  his  spots,"  since  I,  who  was  the  willing 
slave  of  every  evil,  possessed  with  a  legion  of  unclean  spi- 
rits, have  been  spared,  and  saved,  and  changed,  to  stand  as 
a  monument  of  his  almighty  power  for  ever. 

Thus  I  went  on  for  about  six  months,  by  which  time  the 
ship  was  preparing  to  leave  the  coast.   A  few  days  bef  >re 


27] 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


27 


she  sailed  the  captain  died.  I  was  not  upon  much  better 
terms  with  his  mate,  who  now  succeeded  to  the  command, 
and  had,  upon  some  occasion,  treated  me  ill.  I  made  no 
doubt  but  if  I  went  with  him  to  the  West  Indies,  he  would 
put  me  on  board  a  man-of-war;  and  this,  from  what  1  had 
known  already,  was  more  dreadful  to  me  than  death.  To 
avoid  it,  I  determined  to  remain  in  Africa ;  and  amused  my- 
self with  many  golden  dreams,  that  here  I  should  find  an 
opportunity  of  improving  my  fortune. 

There  are  still  upon  that  part  of  the  coast  a  few  white  men 
settled,  (and  there  were  many  more  at  the  time  I  was  first 
there,)  whose  business  it  was  to  purchase  slaves,  &c.  in  the 
rivers  and  country  adjacent,  and  sell  them  to  the  ships  at  an 
advanced  price.  One  of  these,  who  at  first  landed  in  my  in- 
digent circumstances,  had  acquired  considerable  wealth:  he 
had  lately  been  in  England,  and  was  returning  in  the  vessel 
I  was  in,  of  which  he  owned  a  quarter  part.  His  example 
impressed  me  with  hopes  of  the  same  success ;  and,  upon 
condition  of  entering  into  his  service,  1  obtained  my  dis- 
charge. I  had  not  the  precaution  to  make  any  terms,  but 
trusted  to  his  generosity.  1  received  no  compensation  for 
my  time  on  board  the  ship,  but  a  bill  upon  the  owners  in 
England,  which  was  never  paid,  for  they  failed  before  my 
return.  The  day  the  vessel  sailed  I  landed  upon  the  island 
of  Benanoes,  with  little  more  than  the  clothes  upon  my  back, 
as  if  I  had  escaped  shipwreck. 


LETTER  V. 

There  seems  an  important  instruction,  and  of  frequent 
use,  in  these  words  of  our  dear  Lord,  "  Mine  hour  is  not  yet 
come."  The  two  following  years,  of  which  I  am  now  to 
give  some  account,  will  seem  as  an  absolute  blank  in  a  very 
short  life  :  but  as  the  Lord's  hour  of  grace  was  not  yet  come, 
I  was  to  have  still  deeper  experience  of  the  dreadful  state  of 
the  heart  of  man  when  left  to  itself.  I  have  seen  frequent 
cause  since  to  admire  the  mercy  of  the  Lord,  in  banishing 
me  to  those  distant  parts,  and  almost  excluding  me  from 
human  society,  at  a  time  when  I  was  big  with  mischief,  and, 
like  one  infected  with  a  pestilence,  was  capable  of  spreading 


38 


LIFE  OP  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[28 


a  taint  wherever  I  went.  Had  my  affairs  taken  a  different 
turn,  had  I  succeeded  in  my  designs,  and  remained  in  Eng- 
land, my  sad  story  would  probably  have  been  worse.  Worse 
in  myself,  indeed,  I  could  hardly  have  been;  but  my  wick- 
edness would  have  had  a  greater  scope  ;  I  might  have  been 
very  hurtful  to  others,  and  multiplied  irreparable  evils.  But 
the  Lord  wisely  placed  me  where  I  could  do  little  harm. 
The  few  I  had  to  converse  with  were  too  much  like  myself, 
and  I  was  soon  brought  into  such  abject  circumstances,  that 
I  was  too  low  to  have  any  influence.  I  was  rather  shunned 
and  despised  than  imitated ;  there  being  few,  even  of  the 
negroes  themselves,  (during  the  first  year  of  my  residence 
among  them,)  but  thought  themselves  too  good  to  speak  to 
me.  I  was  as  yet  an  "  outcast  lying  in  my  blood,"  (Ezek. 
16  :  6.)  and,  to  all  appearance,  exposed  to  perish.  But  the 
Lord  beheld  me  with  mercy,  He  did  not  strike  me  to  hell, 
as  I  justly  deserved  ;  "  he  passed  by  me  when  I  was  in  my 
blood,  and  said  unto  me,  Live."  But  the  appointed  time 
for  the  manifestation  of  his  love,  to  cover  all  my  iniquities 
with  the  robe  of  his  righteousness,  and  to  admit  me  to  the 
privileges  of  his  children,  was  not  till  long  afterward ;  yet 
even  now  he  bade  me  live;  and  I  can  only  ascribe  it  to  his 
secret  upholding  power,  that  what  I  suffered  in  a  part  of  this 
interval  did  not  bereave  me  either  of  my  life  or  senses  : 
yet,  as  by  these  sufferings  the  force  of  my  evil  example  and 
inclination  was  lessened,  I  have  reason  to  account  them 
amongst  my  mercies. 

It  may  not,  perhaps,  be  amiss  to  digress  for  a  few  lines, 
and  give  you  a  very  brief  sketch  of  the  geography  of  the 
circuit  I  was  now  confined  to,  especially  as  I  may  have  fre- 
quent occasion  to  refer  to  places  I  shall  now  mention ;  for 
my  trade  afterward,  when  the  Lord  gave  me  to  see  better 
days,  was  chiefly  to  the  same  places,  and  with  the  same  per- 
sons, where  and  by  whom  I  had  been  considered  as  upon  a 
level  with  their  meanest  slaves.  From  Cape  de  Verd,  the 
most  western  point  of  Africa,  to  Cape  Mount,  the  whole 
coast  is  full  of  rivers  ;  the  principal  are,  Gambia,  Rio  Grande, 
Sierra  Leone,  and  Sherbro.  Of  the  former,  as  it  is  well 
known,  and  I  was  never  there,  I  need  say  nothing.  The  Rio 
Grande  (like  the  Nile)  divides  into  many  branches  near  the 
sea.  On  the  most  northerly,  called  Cacheo,  the  Portuguese 
have  a  settlement.    The  most  southern  branch,  known  by 


LIFE  OP  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


29 


the  name  of  Rio  Nuna,  is,  or  then  was,  the  usual  boundary 
of  the  white  men's  trade  northward.  Sierra  Leone  is  a 
mountainous  peninsula,  uninhabited,  and,  I  believe,  inacces- 
sible, upon  account  of  the  thick  woods,  excepting  those 
parts  which  lie  near  the  water.  The  river  is  large  and  navi- 
gable. From  hence,  about  twelve  leagues  to  the  south-east, 
are  three  contiguous  islands,  called  the  Benanoes,  about 
twenty  miles  in  circuit ;  this  was  about  the  centre  of  the 
white  men's  residence.  Seven  leagues  farther,  the  same 
tray,  lie  the  Plantanes,  three  small  islands,  two  miles  dis- 
tant from  the  continent  at  the  point,  which  forms  one  side 
of  the  Sherbro.  This  river  is  more  properly  a  sound,  run- 
ning within  a  long  island,  and  receiving  the  confluence  of 
several  large  rivers,  "  rivers  unknown  to  song"  but  far  more 
deeply  engraven  in  my  remembrance  than  the  Po  or  Tyber. 
The  southernmost  of  these  has  a  very  peculiar  course, 
almost  parallel  to  the  coast ;  so  that  in  tracing  it  a  great 
many  leagues  upward,  it  will  seldom  lead  one  above  three 
miles,  and  sometimes  not  more  than  half  a  mile  from  the 
sea-shore.  Indeed,  I  know  not  but  that  all  these  rivers  may 
have  communications  with  each  other,  and  with  the  sea  in 
many  places,  which  I  have  not  remarked.  If  you  cast  your 
eyes  upon  a  large  map  of  Africa  while  yon  are  reading  this, 
you  will  have  a  general  idea  of  the  country  I  was  in :  for 
though  the  maps  are  very  incorrect,  most  of  the  places  I 
have  mentioned  are  inserted,  and  in  the  same  order  as 
I  have  named  them. 

My  new  master  had  formerly  resided  near  Cape  Mount, 
but  now  he  settled  at  the  Plantanes,  upon  the  largest  of  the 
three  islands.  It  is  a  low  sandy  island,  about  two  miles  in 
circumference,  and  almost  covered  with  palm-trees.  We 
immediately  began  to  build  a  house,  and  to  enter  upon  trade. 
I  had  now  some  desire  to  retrieve  my  lost  time,  and  to  exert 
diligence  in  what  was  before  me;  and  he  was  a  man  with 
whom  I  might  have  lived  tolerably  well,  if  he  had  not  been 
soon  influenced  against  me :  but  he  was  much  under  the 
direction  of  a  black  woman,  who  lived  with  him  as  a  wife. 
She  was  a  person  of  some  consequence  in  her  own  country, 
and  he  owed  his  first  rise  to  her  interest.  This  woman 
(I  know  not  for  what  reason)  was  strangely  prejudiced 
against  me  from  the  first ;  and  what  made  it  still  worse  for 
me,  was  a  severe  fit  of  illness,  which  attacked  mc  very 


'SO 


LIFE  OF  REV.   JOHN  NEWTON. 


[30 


soon,  before  I  had  opportunity  to  show  what  I  could  or 
would  do  in  his  service.  I  was  sick  when  he  sailed  in  a 
shallop  to  Rio  Nuna,  and  he  left  me  in  her  hands.  At  first 
I  was  taken  some  care  of ;  but  as  I  did  not  recover  very 
soon,  she  grew  weary,  and  entirely  neglected  me.  I  had 
sometimes  not  a  little  difficulty  to  procure  a  draught  of  cold 
water  when  burning  with  a  fever.  My  bed  was  a  mat  spread 
upon  a  board  or  chest,  and  a  log  of  wood  my  pillow.  When 
my  fever  left  me,  and  my  appetite  returned,  I  would  gladly 
have  eaten,  but  there  was  no  one  gave  unto  me.  She  lived 
in  plenty  herself,  but  hardly  allowed  me  sufficient  to  sustain 
life,  except  now  and  then,  when  in  the  highest  good  humor, 
she  would  send  me  victuals  in  her  own  plate  after  she  had 
dined ;  and  this  (so  greatly  was  my  pride  humbled)  I  re- 
ceived with  thanks  and  eagerness,  as  the  most  needy  beggar 
does  an  alms.  Once,  I  well  remember,  I  was  called  to  re- 
ceive this  bounty  from  her  own  hand ;  but  being  exceeding 
weak  and  feeble,  I  dropped  the  plate.  Those  who  live  in 
plenty  can  hardly  conceive  how  this  loss  touched  me ;  but 
she  had  the  cruelty  to  laugh  at  my  disappointment ;  and 
though  the  table  was  covered  with  dishes,  (for  she  lived 
much  in  the  European  manner,)  she  refused  to  give  me  any 
more.  My  distress  has  been  at  times  so  great  as  to  compel 
me  to  go  by  night  and  pull  up  roots  in  the  plantation, 
(though  at  the  risk  of  being  punished  as  a  thief,)  which  I 
have  eaten  raw  upon  the  spot,  for  fear  of  discovery.  The 
roots  I  speak  of  are  very  wholesome  food  when  boiled  or 
roasted ;  but  as  unfit  to  be  eaten  raw,  in  any  quantity,  as  a 
potatoe.  The  consequence  of  this  diet,  which,  after  the  first 
experiment,  I  always  expected,  and  seldom  missed,  was  the 
same  as  if  I  had  taken  tartar  emetic ;  so  that  I  have  often 
returned  as  empty  as  I  went ;  yet  necessity  urged  me  to 
repeat  the  trial  several  times.  I  have  sometimes  been  re- 
lieved by  strangers  ;  nay,  even  by  the  slaves  in  the  chain, 
who  have  secretly  brought  me  victuals  (for  they  durst  not 
be  seen  to  do  it)  from  their  own  slender  pittance.  Next  to 
pressing  want,  nothing  sits  harder  upon  the  mind  than  scorn 
and  contempt ;  and  of  this,  likewise,  I  had  an  abundant 
measure.  When  I  was  very  slowly  recovering,  this  woman 
would  sometimes  pay  me  a  visit,  not  to  pity  or  relieve,  but 
to  insult  me.  She  would  call  me  worthless  and  indolent,  and 
compel  me  to  walk ;  which,  when  I  could  hardly  do,  she 


31] 


LIFE  OF  KEV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


31 


would  set  her  attendants  to  mimic  my  motion,  to  clap  their 
hands,  laugh,  and  throw  limes  at  me ;  or,  if  they  chose,  to 
throw  stones;  (as  I  think  was  the  case  once  or  twice;)  they 
were  not  rebuked ;  but,  in  general,  though  all  who  depended 
on  her  favor  must  join  in  her  treatment,  yet,  when  she  was 
out  of  sight  I  was  rather  pitied  than  scorned  by  the  meanest 
of  her  slaves.  At  length  my  master  returned  from  his  voyage. 
I  complained  of  ill  usage;  but  he  could  not  believe  me;  and 
as  I  did  it  in  her  hearing,  I  fared  no  better  for  it.  But  in  his 
second  voyage  he  took  me  with  him.  We  did  pretty  well  for 
awhile,  till  a  brother-trader  he  met  in  the  river  persuaded 
him  that  I  was  unfaithful,  and  stole  his  goods  in  the  night, 
or  when  he  was  on  shore.  This  was  almost  the  only  vice  I 
could  not  be  justly  charged  with :  the  only  remains  of  a 
good  education  1  could  boast  of  was  what  is  commonly 
called  honesty ;  and,  as  far  as  he  had  entrusted  me,  I  had 
been  always  faithful ;  and  though  my  great  distress  might, 
in  some  measure,  have  excused  it,  I  never  once  thought 
of  defrauding  him  in  the  smallest  matter.  However,  the 
charge  was  believed,  and  I  was  condemned  without  evi 
dence.  From  that  time  he  likewise  used  me  very  hardly : 
whenever  he  left  the  vessel  I  was  locked  upon  deck,  with  a 
pint  of  rice  for  my  day's  allowance  ;  and  if  he  staid  longer, 
I  had  no  relief  till  his  return.  Indeed,  I  believe  I  should 
have  been  nearly  starved,  but  for  an  opportunity  of  catching 
fish  sometimes.  When  fowls  were  killed  for  his  own  use  I 
seldom  was  allowed  any  part  but  the  entrails,  to  bait  my 
hooks  with :  and  at  what  we  call  slack  water,  that  is,  about 
the  changing  of  the  tides,  when  the  current  was  still,  I  used 
generally  to  fish,  (for  at  other  times  it  was  not  practicable,) 
and  I  very  often  succeeded.  If  I  saw  a  fish  upon  my  hook, 
my  joy  was  little  less  than  any  other  person  may  have  found 
in  the  accomplishment  of  the  scheme  he  had  most  at  heart. 
Such  a  fish,  hastily  broiled,  or  rather  half  burnt,  wiihout 
sauce,  salt,  or  bread,  has  afforded  me  a  delicious  meal.  If  I 
caught  none,  I  might  (if  I  could)  sleep  away  my  hunger  till 
the  next  return  of  slack  water,  and  then  try  again.  Nor  did 
I  suffer  less  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather  and  the 
want  of  clothes.  The  rainy  season  was  now  advancing;  my 
whole  suit  was  a  shirt,  a  pair  of  trowsers,  a  cotton  hand- 
kerchief instead  of  a  cap,  and  a  cotton  cloth  about  two 
yards  long,  to  supply  the  want  of  upper  garments;  and  thus 


32 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[32 


accoutred,  I  have  been  exposed  for  twenty,  thirty,  perhaps 
nearly  forty  hours  together,  in  incessant  rains,  accompanied 
with  strong  gales  of  wind,  without  the  least  shelter,  when 
my  master  was  on  shore.  I  feel,  to  this  day,  some  faint  re- 
turns of  the  violent  pains  I  then  contracted.  The  excessive 
cold  and  wet  I  endured  in  that  voyage,  and  so  soon  after  I 
had  recovered  from  a  long  sickness,  quite  broke  my  consti- 
tution and  my  spirits.  The  latter  were  soon  restored  ;  but 
the  effects  of  the  former  still  remain  with  me,  as  a  needful 
memento  of  the  service  and  wages  of  sin. 

In  about  two  months  we  returned,  and  then  the  rest  of 
the  time  I  remained  with  him  was  chiefly  spent  at  the  Plan- 
tanes,  under  the  same  regimen  as  I  have  already  mentioned. 
My  haughty  heart  was  now  brought  down;  not  to  a  whole- 
some repentance,  nor  to  the  language  of  the  prodigal :  this 
was  far  from  me  ;  but  my  spirits  were  sunk ;  I  lost  all  re- 
solution, and  almost  all  reflection.  I  had  lost  the  fierceness 
which  fired  me  on  board  the  Harwich,  and  which  made  me 
capable  of  the  most  desperate  attempts;  but  I  was  no  farther 
changed  than  a  tiger  tamed  by  hunger:  remove  the  occasion, 
and  he  will  be  as  wild  as  ever. 

One  thing,  though  strange,  is  most  true.  Though  destitute 
of  food  and  clothing,  depressed  to  a  degree  beyond  common 
wretchedness,  I  could  sometimes  collect  my  mind  to  mathe- 
matical studies.  1  had  bought  Barrow's  Euclid  at  Plymouth ; 
it  was  the  only  volume  I  brought  on  shore  ;  it  was  always 
with  me,  and  I  used  to  take  it  to  remote  corners  of  the 
island,  by  the  sea-side,  and  drew  my  diagrams  with  a  long 
stick  upon  the  sand.  Thus  I  often  beguiled  my  sorrows,  and 
almost  forgot  my  feeling :  and  thus,  without  any  other  as- 
sistance, I  made  myself,  in  a  good  measure,  master  of  the 
first  six  books  of  Euclid. 


LETTER  VI. 

There  is  much  piety  and  spirit  in  the  grateful  acknow- 
ledgment of  Jacob,  "  With  my  staff  I  passed  over  this 
Jordan,  and  now  I  am  become  two  bands."  These  are 
words  which  ought  to  affect  me  with  a  peculiar  emotion. 
I  remember  that  some  of  those  mournful  days  to  which  my 
last  letter  refers,  I  was  busied  in  planting  some  lime  or 


33] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


93 


lemon-trees.  The  plants  I  put  in  the  ground  were  no  longer 
than  a  young  gooseberry-bush:  my  master  and  his  mistress 
passing  by  the  place,  stopped  a  while  to  look  at  me  :  at  last, 
"  Who  knows,"  says  he,  "  who  knows,  but  by  the  time  these 
trees  grow  up  and  bear,  you  may  go  home  to  England,  ob- 
tain the  command  of  a  ship,  and  return  to  reap  the  fruits  of 
your  labors?  We  see  strange  things  sometimes  happen." 
This,  as  he  intended  it,  was  a  cutting  sarcasm.  I  believe  he 
thought  it  full  as  probable  that  I  should  live  to  be  king  of 
Poland.  Yet  it  proved  a  prediction,  and  they  (one  of  them 
at  least)  lived  to  see  me  return  from  England  in  the  capa- 
city he  had  mentioned,  and  pluck  some  of  the  first  limes 
from  those  very  trees.  How  can  I  proceed  in  my  relation, 
till  I  raise  a  monument  to  the  Divine  Goodness,  by  compar- 
ing the  circumstances  in  which  the  Lord  has  since  placed 
me  with  what  I  was  at  that  time  !  Had  you  seen  me,  Sir, 
then  go,  pensive  and  solitary,  in  the  dead  of  night,  to  wash 
my  one  shirt  upon  the  rocks,  and  afterward  put  it  on  wet, 
that  it  might  dry  upon  my  back  while  I  slept ;  had  you  seen 
me  so  poor  a  figure,  that  when  a  ship's  boat  came  to  the 
island  shame  often  constrained  me  to  hide  myself  in  the 
woods  from  the  sight  of  strangers:  especially  had  you  known 
that  my  conduct,  principles,  and  heart,  were  still  darker 
than  my  outward  condition  ;  how  little  would  you  have 
imagined  that  one  who  so  fully  answered  to  the  description 
of  the  apostle,  "  hateful,  and  hating  one  another ;"  was  re- 
served to  be  so  peculiar  an  instance  of  the  providential  care 
and  exuberant  goodness  of  God  !  There  was,  at  that  time, 
but  one  earnest  desire  in  my  heart,  which  was  not  contrary 
and  shocking  both  to  religion  and  reason  :  that  one  desire, 
though  my  vile  licentious  life  rendered  me  peculiarly  un- 
worthy of  success,  and  though  a  thousand  difficulties  seemed 
to  render  it  impossible,  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  gratify.  But 
this  favor,  though  great,  and  greatly  prized,  was  a  small 
thing,  compared  to  the  blessings  of  his  grace  :  he  spared  me, 
to  give  me  "  the  knowledge  of  himself  in  the  person  of  Jesus 
Christ."  In  love  to  my  soul,  he  delivered  me  from  the  pit 
of  corruption,  and  cast  all  my  aggravated  sins  behind  his 
back.  He  brought  my  feet  into  the  paths  of  peace.  This 
is,  indeed,  the  chief  article,  but  it  is  not  >he  whole.  When 
he  made  me  acceptable  to  himself  in  the  Beloved,  he  gave 
me  favor  in  the  sight  of  others.  He  raised  me  new  friends, 
2* 


34 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[34 


protected  and  guided  me  through  a  long  series  of  dangers, 
and  crowned  every  day  with  repeated  mercies.  To  him  I 
owe  it,  that  I  am  still  alive,  and  that  I  am  not  still  living  in 
hunger,  and  in  thirst,  and  in  nakedness,  and  the  want  of  all 
things  :  into  that  state  I  brought  myself;  but  it  was  He  who 
delivered  me.  He  has  given  me  an  easy  situation  in  life, 
some  experimental  knowledge  of  his  Gospel,  a  large  acquaint- 
ance amongst  his  people,  a  friendship  and  correspondence 
with  several  of  his  most  honored  servants.  But  it  is  as  diffi- 
cult to  enumerate  my  present  advantages,  as  it  is  fully  to 
describe  the  evils  and  miseries  of  the  preceding  contrast. 

I  know  not  exactly  how  long  things  continued  with  me 
thus,  but  I  believe  nearly  a  twelvemonth.  In  this  interval 
I  wrote  two  or  three  times  to  my  father :  I  gave  him  an  ac- 
count of  my  condition,  and  desired  his  assistance  ;  intimat- 
ing at  the  same  time,  that  I  had  resolved  not  to  return  to 
England  unless  he  was  pleased  to  send  for  me.  I  have  like- 
wise by  me  letters  written  to  Mrs.  N          in  that  dismal 

period  :  so  that  at  the  lowest  ebb,  it  seems,  I  still  retained 
a  hope  of  seeing  her  again.  My  father  applied  to  his  friend 
in  Liverpool,  of  whom  I  have  spoken  before;  who  gave 
orders  accordingly,  to  a  captain  of  his  who  was  then  fit- 
ting out  for  Gambia  and  Sierra  Leone. 

Some  time  within  the  year,  as  I  have  said,  I  obtained  my 
master's  consent  to  live  with  another  trader  who  dwelt  upon 
the  same  island.  Without  his  consent  I  could  not  be  taken  ; 
and  he  was  unwilling  to  do  it  sooner;  but  it  was  then  brought 
about.  This  was  an  alteration  much  to  my  advantage :  I 
was  soon  decently  clothed,  lived  in  plenty,  was  considered 
as  a  companion,  and  trusted  with  the  care  of  all  his  domes- 
tic effects,  which  were  to  the  amount  of  some  thousand 
pounds.  This  man  had  several  factories  and  white  servants 
in  different  places  ;  particularly  one  in  Kittam,  the  river  I 
spoke  of,  which  runs  so  nearly  along  the  sea-coast.  I  was 
soon  appointed  to  go  there,  where  1  had  a  share  in  the  ma- 
nagement of  business  jointly  with  another  of  his  servants. 
We  lived  as  we  pleased,  business  flourished,  and  our  employer 
was  satisfied.  Here  I  began  to  he  wretch  enough  to  think  my- 
self happy.  There  is  a  significant  phrase  frequently  used  in 
those  parts,  That  such  a  white  man  is  grown  black.  It  does 
not  intend  an  alteration  of  complexion,  but  disposition.  I  have 
known  several,  who,  settling  in  Africa  after  the  age  of  thirty 


35] 


LIFE  OP  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


35 


or  forty,  have,  at  that  time  of  life,  been  gradually  assimilated 
to  the  tempers,  customs,  and  ceremonies  of  the  natives,  so 
far  as  to  prefer  that  country  to  England :  they  have  even 
become  dupes  to  all  the  pretended  charms,  necromancies, 
amulets,  and  divinations  of  the  blinded  negroes,  and  put 
more  trust  in  such  things  than  the  wiser  sort  among  the 
natives.  A  part  of  this  spirit  of  infatuation  was  growing  upon- 
me  ;  (in  time,  perhaps,  I  might  have  yielded  to  the  whole  ;) 
I  entered  into  closer  engagements  with  the  inhabitants  ;  and 
should  have  lived  and  died  a  wretch  amongst  them,  if  the 
Lord  had  not  watched  over  me  for  good.  Not  that  I  had 
lost  those  ideas  which  chiefly  engaged  my  heart  to  England ; 
but  despair  of  seeing  them  accomplished  made  me  willing  to 
remain  where  I  was.  I  thought  I  could  more  easiry  bear 
the  disappointment  in  this  situation  than  nearer  home.  But 
as  soon  as  I  had  fixed  my  connections  and  plans  with  these 
views,  the  Lord  providentially  interposed  to  break  them  in 
pieces,  and  to  save  me  from  ruin  in  spite  of  myself. 

In  the  mean  time  the  ship  that  had  orders  to  bring  me 
home  arrived  at  Sierra  Leone.  The  captain  made  inquiry 
for  me  there,  and  at  the  Benanoes  ;  but  understanding  that 
I  was  at  a  great  distance  in  the  country,  he  thought  no  more 
about  me.  Without  doubt,  the  hand  of  God  directed  my 
being  placed  at  Kittam  just  at  this  time;  for,  as  the  ship 
came  no  nearer  than  the  Benanoes,  and  staid  but  a  few  days, 
if  I  had  been  at  the  Plantanes  I  could  not  perhaps  have 
heard  of  her  till  she  had  sailed.  The  same  must  have  cer- 
tainly been  the  event  had  I  been  sent  to  any  other  factory, 
of  which  my  new  master  had  several  upon  different  rivers. 
But  though  the  place  I  was  at  was  a  long  way  up  a  river, 
much  more  than  a  hundred  miles  distance  from  the  Plantanes, 
yet,  by  the  peculiar  situation  which  I  have  already  noticed, 
I  was  still  within  a  mile  of  the  sea-coast.  To  make  the  in- 
terposition more  remarkable,  I  was  at  that  very  juncture 
going  in  quest  of  trade,  to  a  place  at  some  distance  directly 
from  the  sea  ;  and  should  have  set  out  a  day  or  two  before, 
but  that  we  waited  for  a  few  articles  from  the  next  ship  that 
offered,  to  complete  the  assortment  of  goods  I  was  to  take 
with  me.  We  used  sometimes  to  walk  on  the  beach,  in  ex- 
pectation of  seeing  a  vessel  pass  by  ;  but  this  was  very  pre- 
carious, as  at  this  time  the  place  was  not  at  all  resorted  to 
by  ships  for  trade.   Many  passed  in  the  night,  others  kept 


30 


LIFE  OP  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[30 


at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  shore.  In  a  word,  I  do 
not  know  that  any  one  had  stopped  while  I  was  there, 
though  some  had  before,  upon  observing  a  signal  made 
from  the  shore.  In  February,  1747,  (I  know  not  the  exact 
day,)  my  fellow-servant  walking  down  on  the  beach  in  the 
forenoon,  saw  a  vessel  sailing  past,  and  made  a  smoke  in 
token  of  trade.  She  was  already  a  little  beyond  the  place  ; 
and  as  the  wind  was  fair  the  captain  was  in  some  demur 
whether  to  stop  or  not.  However,  had  my  companion  been 
half  an  hour  later  she  would  have  been  gone  beyond  recall ; 
but  he  soon  saw  her  come  to  an  anchor,  and  went  on  board 
in  a  canoe  ;  and  this  proved  the  very  ship  I  have  spoken  of. 
One  of  the  first  questions  he  was  asked  was  concerning  me  ; 
and  when  the  captain  understood  I  was  so  near,  he  came  on 
shore  to  deliver  his  message.  Had  an  invitation  from  home 
reached  me  when  I  was  sick  and  starving  at  the  Plantanes, 
I  should  have  received  it  as  life  from  the  dead  ;  but  now,  for 
the  reasons  already  given,  I  heard  it  at  first  with  indifference. 
The  captain,  unwilling  to  lose  me,  told  a  story  altogether  of 
his  own  framing:  he  gave  me  a  very  plausible  account  how  he 
had  missed  a  large  packet  of  letters  and  papers  which  he 
should  have  brought  with  him ;  but  this  he  said  he  was  sure  of, 
having  had  it  from  my  father's  own  mouth,  as  well  as  from 
his  employer,  that  a  person  lately  dead  had  left  me  £400  a 
year,  adding  further,  that  if  I  was  any  way  embarrassed  in 
my  circumstances,  he  had  express  orders  to  redeem  me, 
though  it  should  cost  one  half  of  his  cargo.  Every  particular 
of  this  was  false;  nor  could  I  myself  believe  what  he  said  about 
the  estate  ;  but  as  I  had  some  expectation  from  an  aged  re- 
lation, I  thought  a  part  of  it  might  be  true.  But  I  was  not 
long  in  suspense  ;  for  though  my  father's  care  and  desire  to 
see  me  had  too  little  weight  with  me,  and  would  have  been 
insufficient  to  make  me  quit  my  retreat ;  yet  the  remem- 
brance of  Mrs.  N  ,  the  hope  of  seeing  her,  and  the  possi- 
bility that  accepting  this  offer  might  once  more  put  me  in  a 
way  of  gaining  her  hand,  prevailed  over  all  other  considera- 
tions. The  captain  further  promised  (and  in  this  he  kept 
his  word,)  that  I  should  lodge  in  his  cabin,  dine  at  his  table, 
and  be  his  constant  companion,  without  expecting  any  ser- 
vice from  me.  And  thus  I  was  suddenly  freed  from  a  cap- 
tivity of  about  fifteen  months.  I  had  neither  a  thought 
nor  a  desire  of  this  change  one  hour  before  it  took  place. 


37] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


37 


I  embarked  with  him,  and  in  a  few  hours  lost  sight  of 
Kittam. 

How  much  is  their  blindness  to  be  pitied  who  can  see 
nothing  but  chance  in  events  of  this  sort !  So  blind  and 
stupid  was  I  at  that  time,  Lmade  no  reflection,  I  sought  no 
direction  in  what  had  happened :  like  a  wave  of  the  sea, 
driven  with  the  wind  and  tossed,  I  was  governed  by  present 
appearances,  and  looked  no  farther.  But  He  who  is  eyes  to 
the  blind  was  leading  me  in  a  way  that  I  knew  not. 

Now  I  am  in  some  measure  enlightened,  I  can  easily  per- 
ceive that  it  is  in  the  adjustment  and  concurrence  of  these 
seemingly  fortuitous  circumstances,  that  the  ruling  power 
and  wisdom  of  God  is  most  evidently  displayed  in  human 
affairs.  How  many  such  casual  events  may  we  remark  in 
the  history  of  Joseph,  which  had  each  a  necessary  influence 
on  his  ensuing  promotion  !  If  he  had  not  dreamed,  or  if  he 
had  not  told  his  dream  ;  if  the  Midianites  had  passed  by  a 
day  sooner,  or  a  day  later ;  if  they  had  sold  him  to  any 
person  but  Potiphar ;  if  his  mistress  had  been  a  better 
woman ;  if  Pharaoh's  officers  had  not  displeased  their  lord ; 
or  if  any,  or  all  these  things  had  fallen  out  in  any  other 
manner  or  time  than  they  did,  all  that  followed  had  been 
prevented  ;  the  promises  and  purposes  of  God  concerning 
Israel,  their  bondage,  deliverance,  polity,  and  settlement, 
must  have  failed :  and  as  all  these  things  tended  to,  and 
centered  in  Christ,  the  promised  Savior,  the  desire  of  all 
nations,  would  not  have  appeared.  Mankind  had  been  still 
in  their  sins,  without  hope,  and  the  counsels  of  God's  eternal 
love  in  favor  of  sinners  defeated.  Thus  we  may  see  a  con- 
nection between  Joseph's  first  dream  and  the  death  of  our 
Lord  Christ,  with  all  its  glorious  consequences.  So  strong, 
though  secret,  is  the  concatenation  between  the  greatest  and 
the  smallest  events.  What  a  comfortable  thought  is  this  to  a 
believer — to  know  that,  amidst  all  the  various  interfering 
designs  of  men,  the  Lord  has  one  constant  design,  which  he 
c.innot,  will  not,  miss,  namely,  h'rs  own  glory  in  the  com- 
plete salvation  of  his  people ;  and  that  he  is  wise,  and  strong, 
and  faithful,  to  make  even  those  things  which  seem  contrary 
to  this  design,  subservient  to  promote  it.  You  have  al- 
lowed me  to  comment  upon  my  own  text ;  yet  the  length 
of  this  observation  may  need  some  apology. 


38 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[38 


LETTER  VII. 

The  ship  I  was  now  on  board  as  a  passenger,  was  on  a 
trading  voyage  for  gold,  ivory,  dyers'  wood,  and  bees-wax. 
It  requires  a  long  time  to  collect  a  cargo  of  this  sort.  The 
captain  began  his  trade  at  Gambia,  had  been  already  four 
or  five  months  in  Africa,  and  continued  there  a  year,  or 
thereabouts,  after  I  was  with  him  ;  in  which  time  we  ranged 
the  whole  coast  as  far  as  Cape  Lopez,  which  lies  about  a 
degree  south  of  the  equinoctial,  and  more  than  a  thousand 
miles  farther  from  England  than  the  place  where  I  em- 
barked. I  have  little  to  offer  worthy  your  notice  in  the 
course  of  this  tedious  voyage.  I  had  no  business  to  employ 
my  thoughts,  but  sometimes  amused  myself  with  mathema- 
tics :  excepting  this,  my  life,  when  awake,  was  a  course  of 
most  horrid  impiety  and  profaneness.  I  know  not  that  I 
have  ever  since  met  so  daring  a  blasphemer :  not  content 
with  common  oaths  and  imprecations,  I  daily  invented  new 
ones;  so  that  I  was  often  seriously  reproved  by  the  captain, 
who  was  himself  a  very  passionate  man,  and  not  at  all  cir- 
cumspect in  his  expressions.  From  the  relation  I  at  times 
made  him  of  my  past  adventures,  and  what  he  saw  of  my 
conduct,  and  especially  toward  the  close  of  the  voyage, 
when  he  met  with  many  disasters,  he  would  often  tell  me 
that,  to  his  grief,  he  had  a  Jonah  on  board ;  that  a  curse  at- 
tended me  wherever  I  went ;  and  that  all  the  troubles  he 
met  with  in  the  voyage  were  owing  to  his  having  taken  me 
into  the  vessel.  I  shall  omit  any  further  particulars,  and 
after  mentioning  an  instance  or  two  of  the  Lord's  mercy  to 
me  while  I  was  thus  defying  his  power  and  patience,  I 
shall  proceed  to  something  more  worthy  your  perusal. 

Although  I  lived  long  in  the  excess  of  almost  every  other 
extravagance,  I  never  was  fond  of  drinking ;  and  my  father 
has  often  been  heard  to  say,  that  while  I  avoided  drunken- 
ness, he  should  still  entertain  hopes  of  my  recovery.  But 
sometimes  I  would  promote  a  drinking-bout,  for  the  sake  of 
a  frolic,  as  I  termed  it ;  for  though  I  did  not  love  the  liquor, 
1  was  sold  to  do  iniquity,  and  delighted  in  mischief.  The 
last  abominable  frolic  of  this  sort  I  engaged  in  was  in  the 
river  Gabon :  the  proposal  and  expense  were  my  own.  Four 
or  five  of  us  one  evening  sat  down  upon  deck,  to  see  who 
could  hold  out  longest  in  drinking  geneva  and  rum  alter- 


39] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


39 


nately :  a  large  sea-shell  supplied  the  place  of  a  glass.  I  was 
very  unfit  for  a  challenge  of  this  sort ;  for  my  head  was 
always  incapable  of  bearing  much  strong  drink.  However, 
I  began,  and  proposed  the  first  toast,  which  I  well  remember 
was  some  imprecation  against  the  person  who  should  start 
first.  This  proved  to  be  myself.  My  brain  was  soon  fired. 
I  arose  and  danced  about  the  deck  like  a  madman ;  and 
while  I  was  thus  diverting  my  companions  my  hat  went 
overboard.  By  the  light  of  the  moon  I  saw  the  ship's  boat, 
and  eagerly  threw  myself  over  the  side  to  get  into  her,  that 
I  might  recover  my  hat.  My  sight  in  that  circumstance 
deceived  me ;  for  the  boat  was  not  within  my  reach,  as  I 
thought,  but  perhaps  twenty  feet  from  the  ship's  side.  I  was, 
however,  half  overboard,  and  should  in  one  moment  more 
have  plunged  myself  into  the  water,  when  somebody  caught 
hold  of  my  clothes  behind,  and  pulled  me  back.  This  was 
an  amazing  escape ;  for  I  could  not  swim  if  I  had  been 
sober ;  the  tide  ran  very  strong ;  my  companions  were  too 
much  intoxicated  to  save  me ;  and  the  rest  of  the  ship's 
company  were  asleep.  So  near  was  I,  to  all  appearance,  of 
perishing  in  that  dreadful  condition,  and  sinking  into  eter- 
nity under  the  weight  of  my  own  curse ! 

Another  time,  at  Cape  Lopez,  some  of  us  had  been  in 
the  woods  and  shot  a  buffalo,  or  wild  cow ;  we  brought  a 
part  of  it  on  board,  and  carefully  marked  the  place  (as  I 
thought)  where  we  left  the  remainder.  In  the  evening  we 
returned  to  fetch  it;  but  we  set  out  too  late.  I  undertook  to 
be  the  guide ;  but  night  coming  on  before  we  could  reach 
the  place,  we  lost  our  way.  Sometimes  we  were  in  swamps, 
up  to  the  middle  in  water;  and  when  we  recovered  dry  land, 
we  could  not  tell  whether  we  were  walking  toward  the  ship, 
or  wandering  farther  from  her.  Every  step  increased  our 
uncertainty.  The  night  grew  darker,  and  we  were  entangled 
in  inextricable  woods,  where,  perhaps,  the  foot  of  man  had 
never  trod  before.  That  part  of  the  country  is  entirely 
abandoned  to  wild  beasts,  with  which  it  prodigiously  abounds. 
We  were,  indeed,  in  a  terrible  case ;  having  neither  light, 
food,  nor  arms,  and  expecting  a  tiger  to  rush  from  behind 
every  tree.  The  stars  were  clouded,  and  we  had  no  com- 
pass to  form  a  judgment  which  way  we  were  going.  Had 
things  continued  thus,  we  had  probably  perished  ;  but  as  it 
pleased  God,  no  beast  came  near  us ;  and  after  some  hours 


40 


LIFE  OF  RET.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[40 


perplexity,  the  ruoon  arose,  and  pointed  out  the  eastern 
quarter.  It  appeared  then,  as  we  had  expected,  that,  instead 
of  drawing  nearer  to  the  sea-side,  we  had  been  penetrating 
into  the  country ;  but  by  the  guidance  of  the  moon  we  at 
length  came  to  the  water-side,  a  considerable  distance  from 
the  ship.  We  got  safe  on  board  without  any  other  inconve- 
nience than  what  we  suffered  from  fear  and  fatigue. 

These,  and  many  other  deliverances,  were  all  at  that 
time  entirely  lost  upon  me.  The  admonitions  of  conscience, 
which,  from  successive  repulses,  had  grown  weaker  and 
weaker,  at  length  entirely  ceased ;  and  for  a  space  of  many 
months,  if  not  for  some  years,  I  cannot  recollect  that  I  had 
a  single  check  of  that  sort.  At  times  I  have  been  visited 
with  sickness,  and  have  believed  myself  near  to  death  ;  but 
I  had  not  the  least  concern  about  the  consequences.  In  a 
word,  I  seemed  to  have  every  mark  of  final  impenitence 
and  rejection  ;  neither  judgments  nor  mercies  made  the 
least  impression  on  me. 

At  length,  our  business  finished,  we  left  Cape  Lopez,  and 
after  a  few  days  stay  at  the  island  of  Annabona,  to  lay  in 
provisions,  we  sailed  homeward,  about  the  beginning  of 
January,  1748.  From  Annabona  to  England,  without  touch- 
ing at  any  intermediate  port,  is  a  very  long  navigation, 
perhaps  more  than  seven  thousand  miles,  if  we  include  the 
circuit  necessary  to  be  made  on  account  of  the  trade-winds. 
We  sailed  first  westward,  till  near  the  coast  of  Brazil,  then 
northward,  to  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland,  with  the  usual 
variations  of  wind  and  weather,  and  without  meeting  any 
thing  extraordinary.  On  these  Banks  we  stopped  half  a  day 
to  fish  for  cod :  this  was  then  chiefly  for  diversion;  we  had 
provisions  enough,  and  little  expected  those  fish  (as  it  after- 
ward proved)  would  be  all  we  should  have  to  subsist  on. 
We  left  the  Banks  March  1,  with  a  hard  gale  of  wind  west- 
erly, which  pushed  us  fast  homeward.  I  should  here  ob- 
serve that,  with  the  length  of  this  voyage  in  a  hot  climate, 
the  vessel  was  greatly  out  of  repair,  and  very  unfit  to  sup- 
port stormy  weather ;  the  sails  and  cordage  were  likewise 
very  much  worn,  and  many  such  circumstances  concurred  to 
render  what  followed  more  dangerous.  I  think  it  was  on  the 
9th  of  March,  the  day  before  our  catastrophe,  that  I  felt  a 
thought  pass  through  my  mind  which  I  had  long  been  a 
stranger  to.  Among  the  few  books  we  had  on  board,  one 


41] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


41 


was  Stanhope's  Thomas  &  Kempis :  I  carelessly  tiok  it  up, 
as  I  had  often  done  before,  to  pass  away  the  time  ;  but  I  had 
still  read  it  with  the  same  indifference  as  if  it  was  entirely  a 
romance.    However,  while  I  was  reading  this  time,  an  in 
voluntary  suggestion  arose  in  my  mind,  What  if  these  things 
should  be  true  ?  I  could  not  bear  the  force  of  the  inference, 
as  it  related  to  myself,  and  therefore  shut  the  book  presently 
My  conscience  witnessed  against  me  once  more  ;  and  1  con- 
cluded that,  true  or  false,  I  must  abide  the  consequences  of 
my  own  choice.     I  put  an  abrupt  end  to  these  reflections 
by  joining  in  with  some  vain  conversation  or  other  that 
came  in  the  way. 

But  now  the  Lord's  time  teas  come,  and  the  conviction  I 
was  so  unwilling  to  receive  was  deeply  impressed  upon  me 
by  an  awful  dispensation.  I  went  to  bed  that  night  in  my 
usual  security  and  indifference,  but  was  awakened  from  a 
sound  sleep  by  the  force  of  a  violent  sea  which  broke  on 
board  us.  So  much  of  it  came  down  below  as  filled  the 
cabin  I  lay  in  with  water.  This  alarm  was  followed  by  a 
cry  from  the  deck  that  the  ship  was  going  down,  or  sinking. 
As  soon  as  I  could  recover  myself  I  essayed  to  go  upon 
deck  ;  but  was  met  upon  the  ladder  by  the  captain,  who  de- 
sired me  to  bring  a  knife  with  me.  While  I  returned  for  the 
knife  another  person  went  up  in  my  room,  who  was  in- 
stantly washed  overboard.  We  had  no  leisure  to  lament 
him  ;  nor  did  we  expect  to  survive  him  long  ;  for  we  soon 
found  the  ship  was  filling  with  water  very  fast.  The  sea 
had  torn  away  the  upper  timbers  on  one  side,  and  made  the 
ship  a  mere  wreck  in  a  few  minutes.  I  shall  not  affect  to 
describe  this  disaster  in  the  marine  dialect,  which  would  be 
understood  by  few  ;  and  therefore  I  can  give  you  but  a  very 
inadequate  idea  of  it.  Taking  in  all  circumstances,  it  was 
astonishing,  and  almost  miraculous,  that  any  of  us  survived 
to  relate  the  story.  We  had  immediate  recourse  to  the 
pumps  ;  but  the  water  increased  against  all  our  efforts  :  some 
of  us  were  set  to  bailing  in  another  part  of  the  vessel,  that 
is,  to  lade  it  out  with  buckets  and  pails.  We  had  but  eleven 
or  twelve  people  to  sustain  this  service  ;  and,  notwithstand- 
ing all  we  could  do,  she  was  full,  or  very  near  it :  and  then, 
with  a  common  cargo,  she  must  have  sunk  of  course  ;  but  we 
had  a  great  quantity  of  beeswax  and  wood  on  board,  which 
were  specifically  lighter  than  the  water  ;  and  as  it  pleased 


42 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


God  that  we  received  this  shock  in  the  very  crisis  of  the 
gale,  toward  morning  we  were  enabled  to  employ  some 
means  for  our  safety,  which  succeeded  be)'ond  hope.  In 
about  an  hour's  time  the  day  began  to  break,  and  the  wind 
abated.  We  expended  most  of  our  clothes  and  bedding  to 
stop  the  leaks ;  (though  the  weather  was  exceedingly  cold, 
especially  to  us  who  had  so  lately  left  a  hot  climate ;)  over 
these  we  nailed  pieces  of  boards,  and  at  last  perceived  the 
water  abate.  At  the  beginning  of  this  hurry  I  was  little 
affected.  I  pumped  hard,  and  endeavored  to  animate  myself 
and  my  companions.  I  told  one  of  them  that  in  a  few  days 
this  distress  would  serve  us  to  talk  of  over  a  glass  of  wine : 
but  he  being  a  less  hardened  sinner  than  myself,  replied  with 
tears,  "  No,  it  is  too  late  now."  About  nine  o'clock,  being 
almost  spent  with  cold  and  labor,  I  went  to  speak  with  the 
captain,  who  was  busied  elsewhere ;  and  just  as  I  was  return- 
ing from  him  I  said,  almost  without  any  meaning,  "  If  this 
will  not  do,  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  us."  This  (though 
spoken  with  little  reflection)  was  the  first  desire  I  had 
breathed  for  mercy  for  the  space  of  many  years.  I  was  in- 
stantly struck  with  my  own  words,  and  as  Jehu  said  once, 
What  hast  thou  to  do  with  peace  ?  so  it  directly  occurred, 
What  mercy  can  there  he  for  me  ?  I  was  obliged  to  return  to 
the  pump,  and  there  I  continued  till  noon,  almost  every  pass 
ing  wave  breaking  over  my  head ;  but  we  made  ourselves 
fast  with  ropes,  that  we  might  not  be  washed  away.  Indeed, 
I  expected  that  every  time  the  vessel  descended  in  the  sea, 
she  would  rise  no  more ;  and  though  I  dreaded  death  now, 
and  my  heart  foreboded  the  worst,  if  the  Scriptures,  which  I 
had  long  since  opposed,  were  indeed  true,  yet  still  I  was 
but  half-convinced,  and  remained  for  a  space  of  time  in  a 
sullen  frame,  a  mixture  of  despair  and  impatience.  I  thought 
if  the  Christian  religion  were  true  I  could  not  be  forgiven  ; 
and  was  therefore  expecting,  and  almost,  at  times,  wi  >hing, 
to  know  the  worst  of  it. 


LETTER  VIII. 


The  10th  (that  is,  in  the  present  style,  the  21st)  of  March 
is  a  day  much  to  be  remembered  by  me;  and  I  have  never 


43] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


43 


suffered  it  to  pass  wholly  unnoticed  since  the  year  1748:  on 
that  day  the  Lord  sent  from  on  high  and  delivered  me  out 
of  deep  waters.  I  continued  at  the  pump  from  three  in  the 
morning  till  near  noon,  and  then  I  could  do  no  more.  I  went 
and  lay  down  upon  my  bed,  uncertain,  and  almost  indifferent, 
whether  I  should  rise  again.  In  an  hour's  time  I  was  called  ; 
and  not  being  able  to  pump,  I  went  to  the  helm  and  steered 
the  ship  till  midnight,  excepting  a  short  interval  for  refresh- 
ment. I  had  here  leisure  and  convenient  opportunity  for 
reflection.  I  began  to  think  of  my  former  religious  profes- 
sions ;  the  extraordinary  turns  in  my  life ;  the  calls,  warn- 
ings, and  deliverances  I  had  met  with  ;  the  licentious  course 
of  my  conversation,  particularly  my  unparalleled  effrontery 
in  making  the  gospel-history  (which  I  could  not  then  be  sure 
was  false,  though  I  was  not  as  yet  assured  it  was  true)  the 
constant  subject  of  profane  ridicule.  I  thought,  allowing  the 
scripture  premises,  there  never  was,  nor  could  be,  such  a 
sinner  as  myself ;  and  then,  comparing  the  advantages  I  had 
broken  through,  I  concluded,  at  first,  that  my  sins  were  too 
great  to  be  forgiven.  The  scripture  likewise  seemed  to  say 
the  same  ;  for  I  had  formerly  been  well  acquainted  with  the 
Bible,  and  many  passages,  upon  this  occasion,  returned  upon 
my  memory,  particularly  those  awful  passages,  Prov.  1 : 
24—31  ;  Heb.  6  :  4—6  ;  and  2  Pet.  2  :  20,  which  seemed 
so  exactly  to  suit  my  case  and  character  as  to  bring  with 
them  a  presumptive  proof  of  a  divine  original.  Thus,  as  I 
have  said,  I  waited  with  fear  and  impatience  to  receive  my 
inevitable  doom.  Yet  though  I  had  thoughts  of  this  kind, 
they  were  exceedingly  faint  and  disproportionate  ;  it  was 
not  till  long  after,  (perhaps  several  years,)  till  I  had  gained 
some  clear  views  of  the  infinite  righteousness  and  grace  of 
Jesus  Christ  my  Lord,  that  I  had  a  deep  and  strong  appre- 
hension of  my  state  by  nature  and  practice :  and  perhaps  till 
then  I  could  not  have  borne  the  sight.  So  wonderfully  does 
the  Lord  proportion  the  discoveries  of  sin  and  grace  ;  for 
he  knows  our  frame,  and  that  if  he  were  to  put  forth  the 
greatness  of  his  power,  a  poor  sinner  would  be  instantly 
overwhelmed,  and  crushed  as  a  moth.  But  to  return  :  when 
I  saw,  beyond  all  probability,  there  was  still  a  hope  of  respite, 
and  heard,  about  six  in  the  evening,  that  the  ship  was  freed 
from  water,  there  arose  a  gleam  of  hope ;  I  thought  I  saw 
the  hand  of  God  displayed  in  our  favor  :  I  began  to  pray. 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[44 


I  could  not  utter  the  prayer  of  faith  :  I  could  not  draw  near 
to  a  reconciled  God,  and  call  him  Father.  My  prayer  was 
like  the  cry  of  the  ravens,  which  yet  the  Lord  does  not  dis- 
dain to  hear.  I  now  began  to  think  of  that  Jesus  whom  I 
had  so  often  derided ;  I  recollected  the  particulars  of  his  lifr, 
and  of  his  death :  a  death  for  sins  not  his  own,  but,  as  I  remem- 
bered, for  the  sake  of  those  who  in  their  distress  should 
put  their  trust  in  Him.  And  now  I  chiefly  wanted  evidence. 
The  comfortless  principles  of  infidelity  were  deeply  riveted, 
and  I  rather  wished  than  believed  these  things  were  real 
facts.  You  will  please  to  observe,  Sir,  that  I  collect  the 
strain  of  the  reasonings  and  exercises  of  my  mind  in  one 
view ;  but  I  do  not  say  that  all  this  passed  at  one  time. 
The  great  question  now  was,  how  to  obtain  faith  ?  I  speak 
not  of  an  appropriating  faith,  (of  which  I  then  knew  neither 
the  nature  nor  necessity,)  but  how  I  should  gain  an  assur- 
ance that  the  Scriptures  were  of  divine  inspiration,  and  a 
sufficient  warrant  for  the  exercise  of  trust  and  hope  in  God. 
One  of  the  first  helps  I  received  (in  consequence  of  a  deter- 
mination to  examine  the  New  Testament  more  carefully) 
was  from  Luke,  11:13.  I  had  been  sensible  that  to  profess 
faith  in  Jesus  Christ  when  in  reality  I  did  not  believe  his 
history,  was  no  better  than  a  mockery  pi  the  heart-searching 
God ;  but  here  I  found  a  Spirit  spoken  of,  which  was  to  be 
communicated  to  those  who  ask  it.  Upon  this  I  reasoned 
thus  :  If  this  book  is  true,  the  promise  in  this  passage  is  true 
likewise  :  I  have  need  of  that  very  Spirit  by  which  the  whole 
was  written,  in  order  to  understand  it  aright.  He  has  en- 
gaged here  to  give  that  Spirit  to  those  who  ask.  I  must 
therefore  pray  for  it ;  and  if  it  is  of  God,  he  will  make  good 
his  own  word.  My  purposes  were  strengthened  by  John 
7:  17.  I  concluded,  from  thence,  that  though  I  could  not 
say  from  my  heart  that  I  believed  the  Gospel,  ):et  I  would 
for  the  present  take  it  for  granted,  and  that  by  studying  it 
in  this  light  I  should  be  more  and  more  confirmed  in  it.  If 
what  I  am  writing  could  be  perused  by  our  modern  infidels, 
they  would  say  (for  1  too  weH  know  their  manner)  that  I 
was  very  desirous  to  persuade  myself  into  this  opinion.  I 
confess  I  was  ;  and  so  would  they  be,  if  the  Lord  should 
show  them,  as  he  was  pleased  to  show  me  at  that  time,  the 
absolute  necessity  of  some  expedient  to  interpose  between  n 
righteous  God  and  a  sinful  soul.  Upon  the  gospel-scheme  I 


45] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


45 


saw  at  least  a  peradvcnture  of  hope,  but  on  every  other  side 
1  was  surrounded  with  black,  unfathomable  despair. 

The  wind  was  now  moderate,  but  continued  fair,  and  we 
were  still  drawing  nearer  to  our  port.  We  began  to  recover 
from  our  consternation,  though  we  were  greatly  alarmed  by 
our  circumstances.  We  found  that  the  water  having  floated 
all  our  moveables  in  the  hold,  all  the  casks  of  provision  had 
been  beaten  to  pieces  by  the  violent  motion  of  the  ship  ;  on 
the  other  hand,  our  live  stock,  such  as  pigs,  sheep,  and 
poultry,  had  been  washed  overboard  in  the  storm.  In  effect, 
all  the  provisions  we  saved,  except  the  fish  I  mentioned,  and 
some  food  of  the  pulse  kind,  which  used  to  be  given  to  the 
hogs,  (and  there  was  but  little  of  this  left,)  all  our  other  pro- 
visions would  have  subsisted  us  but  a  week  at  scanty  allow- 
ance. The  sails,  too,  were  mostly  blown  away,  so  that  we 
advanced  but  slowly  even  while  the  wind  was  fair.  We 
imagined  ourselves  about  a  hundred  leagues  from  the  land, 
but  were  in  reality  much  farther.  Thus  we  proceeded  with 
an  alternate  prevalence  of  hopes  and  fears.  My  leisure  time 
was  chiefly  emplo}red  in  reading  and  meditating  on  the 
scripture,  and  praying  to  the  Lord  for  mercy  and  instruction. 

Things  continued  thus  for  four  or  five  days,  or  perhaps 
longer,  till  we  were  awakened  one  morning  by  the  joyful 
shouts  of  the  watch  upon  deck  proclaiming  the  sight  of  land. 
We  were  all  soon  raised  at  the  sound.  The  dawning  was 
uncommonly  beautiful,  and  the  light  (just  strong  enough  to 
discover  distant  objects)  presented  us  with  a  gladdening  pros- 
pect: it  seemed  a  mountainous  coast,  about  twenty  miles 
from  us,  terminating  in  a  Cape,  or  point;  and  a  little  further, 
two  or  three  small  islands,  or  hummocks,  as  just  rising  out 
of  the  water ;  the  appearance  and  position  seemed  exactly 
answerable  to  our  hopes,  resembling  the  north-west  ex- 
tremity of  Ireland,  which  we  were  steering  for.  Wre  sincerely 
congratulated  each  other,  making  no  doubt  but  that,  if  the 
wind  continued,  we  should  be  in  safety  and  plenty  the  next 
day.  We  ate  up  the  residue  of  our  bread  for  joy  at  this  wel- 
come sight,  and  were  in  the  condition  of  men  suddenly  re- 
prieved from  death.  While  we  were  thus  alert,  the  mate, 
with  a  graver  tone  than  the  rest,  sunk  our  spirits  by  saying 
"  that  he  wished  it  might  prove  land  at  last."  If  one  of  the 
common  sailors  had  first  said  so,  I  know  not  but  the  rest 
would  have  beat  him  for  raising  such  an  unreasonable  doubt. 


46 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[46 


It  brought  on,  however,  warm  debates  and  disputes,  whether 
it  was  land  or  not ;  but  the  case  was  soon  unanswerably  de- 
cided, for  the  day  was  advancing  fast,  and  in  a  little  time 
one  of  our  fancied  islands  began  to  grow  red  from  the  ap- 
proach of  the  sun,  which  soon  arose  just  under  it.  In  a  word, 
we  had  been  prodigal  of  our  bread  too  hastily ;  our  land  was 
nothing  but  clouds;  and  in  half  an  hour  more  the  whole  ap- 
pearance was  dissipated.  Seamen  have  often  known  decep- 
tions of  this  sort,  but  in  our  extremity  we  were  very  loth 
to  be  undeceived.  However,  we  comforted  ourselves  that 
though  we  could  not  see  the  land  yet,  we  should  soon,  the 
wind  hitherto  continuing  fair.  But,  alas!  we  were  deprived 
of  this  hope  likewise.  That  very  day  our  fair  wind  subsided 
into  a  calm,  and  the  next  morning  the  gales  sprung  up  from 
the  south-east,  directly  against  us,  and  continued  so  for  more 
than  a  fortnight  afterward.  The  ship  was  so  wrecked  that 
we  were  obliged  to  keep  the  wind  always  on  the  broken  side, 
unless  the  weather  was  quite  moderate.  Thus  we  were 
driven,  by  the  wind  fixing  in  that  quarter,  still  further  from 
our  port,  to  the  northward  of  all  Ireland,  as  far  as  the  Lewis, 
or  western  islands  of  Scotland,  but  a  long  way  to  the  west- 
ward. In  a  word,  our  station  was  such  as  deprived  us  of  any 
hope  of  being  relieved  by  other  vessels.  It  may,  indeed,  be 
questioned  whether  our  ship  was  not  the  very  first  that  had 
been  in  that  part  of  the  ocean  at  the  same  season  of  the  year. 

Provisions  now  began  to  grow  very  short:  the  half  of  a 
salted  cod  was  a  day's  subsistence  for  twelve  people.  We 
had  plenty  of  fresh  water",  but  no  bread,  hardly  any  clothes, 
and  very  cold  weather.  We  had  incessant  labor  with  the 
pumps  to  keep  the  ship  above  water.  Much  labor  and  little 
food  wasted  us  fast,  and  one  man  died  under  the  hardship. 
Yet  our  sufferings  were  light  in  comparison  to  our  just  fears. 
We  could  not  afford  this  bare  allowance  much  longer,  but  had 
a  terrible  prospect  of  being  either  starved  to  death,  or  reduced 
to  feed  upon  one  another.  Our  expectations  grew  darker 
every  day ;  and  I  had  a  further  trouble,  peculiar  to  myself. 
The  captain,  whose  temper  was  quite  soured  by  distress, 
was  hourly  reproaching  me  (as  I  formerly  observed)  as  the 
sole  cause  of  the  calamity,  and  was  confident  that  if  I  was 
thrown  overboard,  and  not  otherwise,  they  should  be  pre- 
served from  death.  He  did  not  intend  to  make  the  experi- 
ment; but  the  continual  repetition  of  this  in  my  ears  gave 


47] 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


47 


mc  much  uneasiness,  especially  as  my  conscience  seconded 
his  words;  I  thought  it  very  probable  that  all  that  had  be- 
fallen us  was  on  my  account.  I  was  at  last  found  out  by  the 
powerful  hand  of  God,  and  condemned  in  my  own  breast. 
However,  proceeding  in  the  method  I  have  described,  I  be- 
gan to  conceive  hopes  greater  than  all  my  fears ;  especially 
when,  at  the  time  we  were  ready  to  give  up  all  for  lost,  and 
despair  was  taking  place  in  every  countenance,  I  saw  the 
wind  come  about  to  the  very  point  we  wished  it,  so  as  best 
to  suit  that  broken  part  of  the  ship  which  must  be  kept  out 
of  the  water,  and  to  blow  so  gentle  as  our  few  remaining 
sails  could  bear ;  and  thus  it  continued,  without  any  observ- 
able alteration  or  increase,  though  at  an  unsettled  time  of 
the  year,  till  we  once  more  were  called  up  to  see  the  land, 
and  were  convinced  that  it  was  land  indeed.  We  saw  the 
island  Tory,  and  the  next  day  anchored  in  Lough  Swilly, 
in  Ireland.  This  was  the  8th  of  April,  just  four  weeks  after 
the  damage  we  sustained  from  the  sea.  When  we  came  into 
this  port  our  very  last  victuals  were  boiling  in  the  pot ;  and 
before  we  had  been  there  two  hours,  the  wind,  which  seemed 
to  have  been  providentially  restrained  till  we  were  in  a  place 
of  safety,  began  to  blow  with  great  violence  ;  so  that,  if  we 
had  continued  at  sea  that  night,  in  our  shattered  enfeebled 
condition,  we  must,  in  all  human  appearance,  have  gone  to 
the  bottom.  About  this  time  I  began  to  know  that  there  is 
a  God  that  hears  and  answers  prayer.  How  many  times  has 
he  appeared  for  me  since  this  great  deliverance !  Yet,  alas  ! 
how  distrustful  and  ungrateful  is  my  heart  unto  this  hour. 


LETTER  IX. 

I  have  brought  rny  history  down  to  the  time  of  my  arrival 
in  Ireland,  1748;  but  before  I  proceed  I  would  look  back 
a  little,  to  give  you  some  further  account  of  the  state  of  my 
mind,  and  how  far  I  was  helped  against  inward  difficulties, 
which  beset  me  at  the  time  I  had  many  outward  hardships 
to  struggle  with.  The  straits  of  hunger,  cold,  weariness,  and 
the  fears  of  sinking  and  starving,  I  shared  in  common  with 
others :  but  besides  these,  I  felt  a  heart-bitterness,  which 
was  properly  my  own ;  no  one  on  board  but  myself  being 


46 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[48 


impressed  with  any  sense  of  the  hand  of  God  in  our  danger 
and  deliverance,  at  least  not  awakened  to  any  concern  for 
their  souls.  No  temporal  dispensations  can  reach  the  heart, 
unless  the  Lord  himself  applies  them.  My  companions  in 
danger  were  either  quite  unaffected,  or  soon  forgot  it  all : 
but  it  was  not  so  with  me  ;  not  that  I  was  any  wiser  or  better 
than  they,  but  because  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  vouchsafe 
me  peculiar  mercy  ;  otherwise  1  was  the  most  unlikely  person 
in  the  ship  to  receive  an  impression,  having  been  often  be- 
fore quite  stupid  and  hardened  in  the  very  face  of  great 
dangers,  and  having  always,  till  this  time,  hardened  my  neck 
still  more  and  more  after  every  reproof.  I  can  see  no  reason 
why  the  Lord  singled  me  out  for  mere}',  but  this,  "  that  so 
it  seemed  good  to  him ;"  unless  it  was  to  show,  by  one  as- 
tonishing instance,  that  "  with  him  nothing  is  impossible." 

There  were  no  persons  on  board  to  whom  I  could  open 
myself  with  freedom  concerning  the  state  of  my  soul,  none 
from  whom  I  could  ask  advice.  As  to  books,  I  had  a  New 
Testament,  Stanhope,  already  mentioned,  and  a  volume  of 
Bishop  Beveridge's  Sermons,  one  of  which,  upon  our  Lord's 
Passion,  affected  me  much.  In  perusing  the  New  Testament, 
I  was  struck  with  several  passages,  particularly  that  of  the 
fig-tree,  Luke  13;  the  case  of  St.  Paul,  1  Tim.  1;  but  par- 
ticularly the  prodigal,  Luke,  15;  a  case  I  thought  had  never 
been  so  nearly  exemplified  as  by  myself:  and  then  the  good- 
ness of  the  father  in  receiving,  nay,  in  running  to  meet  such 
a  son ;  and  this  intended  only  to  illustrate  the  Lord's  goodness 
to  returning  sinners :  this  gained  upon  me.  J  continued  much 
in  prayer;  I  saw  that  the  Lord  had  interposed  so  Jar  to  save 
me ;  and  I  hoped  he  would  do  more.  The  outward  circum- 
stances helped  in  this  place  to  make  me  still  more  serious 
and  earnest  in  crying  to  Him  who  alone  could  relieve  me ; 
and  sometimes  I  thought  I  could  be  content  to  die  even  for 
want  of  food,  if  I  might  but  die  a  believer.  Thus  far  I  was 
answered,  that  before  we  arrived  in  Ireland  I  had  a  satisfac- 
tory evidence  in  my  own  own  mind  of  the  truth  of  the  gos- 
pel, as  considered  in  itself,  and  its  exact  suitableness  to 
answer  all  my  needs.  I  saw  that,  by  the  way  there  pointed 
out,  God  might  declare,  not  his  mercy  only,  but  his  justice 
also,  in  the  pardon  of  sin,  on  account  of  the  obedience  and 
sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ.  My  judgment  at  that  time  em- 
braced the  sublime  doctrine  of  "God  manifest  in  the  flesh, 


49] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


49 


reconciling  the  world  to  himself."  I  had  no  idea  of  those 
systems  which  allow  the  Savior  no  higher  honor  than  that  of 
an  upper  servant,  or,  at  the  most,  a  demi->;od.  I  stood  in  need 
of  an  almighty  Savior,  and  such  a  one  I  found  described  in 
the  New  Testament.  Thus  far  the  Lord  had  wrought  a  mar- 
vellous thing;  I  was  no  longer  an  infidel;  I  heartily  re- 
nounced my  former  profaneness  ;  I  had  taken  up  some  right 
notions,  was  seriously  disposed,  and  sincerely  touched  with 
a  sense  of  the  undeserved  mercy  I  had  received,  in  being 
brought  safe  through  so  many  dangers.  I  was  sorry  for  my 
past  mispent  life,  and  purposed  an  immediate  reformation  : 
I  was  quite  freed  from  the  habit  of  swearing,  which  seemed 
to  have  been  deeply  rooted  in  me  as  a  second  nature.  Thus, 
to  all  appearance,  I  was  a  new  man. 

But  though  I  cannot  doubt  that  this  change,  so  far  as  it 
prevailed,  was  wrought  by  the  Spirit  and  power  of  God  ;  yet 
still  I  was  greatly  deficient  in  many  respects.  I  was,  in  some 
degree,  affected  with  a  sense  of  my  more  enormous  sins  ;  but 
I  was  little  aware  of  the  innate  evils  of  my  heart.  I  had  no 
apprehension  of  the  spirituality  and  extent  of  the  law  of  God ; 
the  hidden  life  of  a  Christian,  as  it  consists  in  communion 
with  God  by  Jesus  Christ;  and  a  continual  dcpendance  on 
him  for  hourly  supplies  of  wisdom,  strength,  and  comfort, 
was  a  mystery  of  which  I  had  as  yet  no  knowledge.  I  ac- 
knowledged the  Lord's  mercy  in  pardoning  what  was  past, 
but  depended  chiefly  upon  my  own  resolution  to  do  better 
for  the  time  to  come.  I  had  no  Christian  friend  or  faithful 
minister  to  advise  me  that  my  strength  was  no  more  than  my 
righteousness ;  and  though  I  soon  began  to  inquire  for  se- 
rious books,  yet,  not  having  spiritual  discernment,  I  frequently 
made  a  wrong  choice  ;  and  I  was  not  brought  in  the  way  of 
evangelical  preaching  or  conversation  (except  a  few  times 
when  I  heard  but  understood  not)  for  six  years  after  this 
period.  Those  things  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  discover  to 
me  gradually.  I  learned  them  here  a  little  and  there  a  little, 
by  my  own  painful  experience,  at  a  distance  from  the  com- 
mon means  and  ordinances,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  same 
course  of  evil  company  and  bad  examples  as  I  had  been 
conversant  with  for  some  time.  From  this  period  I  could  no 
more  make  a  mock  at  sin,  or  jest  with  holy  things ;  I  no 
more  questioned  the  truth  of  Scripture,  or  lost  a  sense  of  the- 
rebukes  of  conscience.   Therefore  I  consider  this  as  the  he- 

3 


50 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[50 


ginning  of  my  return  to  God,  or  rather  of  his  return  to  me  ; 
but  I  cannot  consider  myself  to  have  been  a  believer  (in  the 
full  sense  of  the  word)  till  a  considerable  time  afterward. 

I  have  told  you  that,  in  the  time  of  our  distress,  we  had 
fresh  water  in  abundance.  This  was  a  considerable  relief  to 
us,  especially  as  our  spare  diet  was  mostly  salt-fish,  without 
bread  ;  we  drank  plentifully,  and  were  not  afraid  of  wanting 
water  ;  yet  our  stock  of  this  likewise  was  much  nearer  to  an 
end  than  we  expected  ;  we  supposed  that  we  had  six  large 
butts  of  water  on  board ;  and  it  was  well  that  we  were  safe 
arrived  in  Ireland  before  we  discovered  that  five  of  them 
were  empty,  having  been  removed  out  of  their  places,  and 
stove  by  the  violent  agitation  when  the  ship  was  full  of 
water.  If  we  had  found  this  out  while  we  were  at  sea,  it 
would  have  greatly  heightened  our  distress,  as  we  must  have 
drunk  more  sparingly. 

While  the  ship  was  refitting  at  Lough  Swilly,  I  repaired 
to  Londonderry.  I  lodged  at  an  exceedingly  good  house, 
where  I  was  treated  with  much  kindness,  and  soon  recruited 
my  health  and  strength.  I  was  now  a  serious  professor,  went 
twice  a-day  to  the  prayers  at  church,  and  was,  at  times,  very 
particular  and  earnest  in  my  private  devotion  ;  but  yet,  for 
want  of  a  better  knowledge  of  myself,  and  the  subtilty  of 
Satan's  temptations,  I  was  soon  seduced  to  forget  the  vows 
of  God  that  were  upon  me.  One  day  as  I  was  abroad  with 
the  mayor  of  the  city,  and  some  other  gentlemen,  shooting, 
I  climbed  up  a  steep  bank,  and  pulling  my  fowling-piece 
after  me,  as  I  held  it  in  a  perpendicular  direction,  it  went 
oflfso  near  my  face  as  to  burn  away  the  corner  of  my  hat. 
Thus,  when  we  think  ourselves  in  the  greatest  safety,  we 
are  no  less  exposed  to  danger  than  when  all  the  elements 
seem  conspiring  to  destroy  us.  The  Divine  Providence, 
which  is  sufficient  to  deliver  us  in  our  utmost  extremity,  is 
equally  necessary  to  our  preservation  in  the  most  peaceful 
situation. 

During  our  stay  in  Ireland  I  wrote  home.  The  vessel  I 
was  in  had  not  been  heard  of  for  eighteen  months,  and  was 
given  up  for  lost  long  before.  My  father  had  no  more  ex- 
pectation of  hearing  that  I  was  alive ;  but  he  received  my 
letter  a  few  days  before  he  left  London.  He  was  just  going 
Governor  of  York  Fort,  in  Hudson's  Bay,  from  whence  he 
never  returned.    He  sailed  before  I  landed  in  England,  or 


51] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


51 


he  had  purposed  to  take  me  with  him ;  but  God  designing 
otherwise,  one  liinderance  or  another  delayed  us  in  Ireland 
until  it  was  too  late.  I  received  two  or  three  affectionate 
letters  from  him,  but  I  never  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him 
more.  I  had  hopes  that,  in  three  years  more,  I  should  have 
had  an  opportunity  of  asking  his  forgiveness  for  the  uneasi- 
ness my  disobedience  had  given  him  ;  but  the  ship  that  was 
to  have  brought  him  home  came  without  him.  According 
to  the  best  accounts  we  received,  he  was  seized  with  the 
cramp  when  bathing,  and  drowned,  a  little  before  her  arrival 
in  the  bay.  Excuse  this  digression. 

My  father,  willing  to  contribute  all  in  his  power  to  my 
satisfaction,  paid  a  visit,  before  his  departure,  to  my  friends 
in  Kent,  and  gave  his  consent  to  the  union  which  had  been 

so  long  talked  of.  Thus,  when  I  returned  to  ,  I  found 

I  had  only  the  consent  of  one  person  to  obtain  ;  with  her  I 
as  yet  stood  at  as  great  an  uncertainty  as  on  the  first  day  I 
saw  her. 

I  arrived  at  Liverpool  the  latter  end  of  May,  1748,  about 
the  same  day  that  my  father  sailed  from  the  Nore  ;  but  found 
the  Lord  had  provided  me  another  father  in  the  gentleman 
whose  ship  had  brought  me  home.  He  received  me  with  great 
tenderness,  and  the  strongest  expressions  of  friendship  and 
assistance ;  yet  no  more  than  he  has  since  made  good  :  for 
to  him,  as  the  instrument  of  God's  goodness,  I  owe  my  all. 
Yet  it  would  not  have  been  in  the  power  even  of  this  friend 
to  have  served  me  effectually,  if  the  Lord  had  not  met  with 
me  on  my  way  home,  as  I  have  related.  Till  then  I  was  like 
the  man  possessed  with  the  legion.  No  arguments,  no  per- 
suasion, no  views  of  interest,  no  remembrance  of  the  past,  or 
regard  to  the  future,  could  have  constrained  me  within  the 
bounds  of  common  prudence.  But  now  I  was,  in  some  mea- 
sure, restored  to  my  senses.  My  friend  immediately  offered 
me  the  command  of  a  ship;  but,  upon  mature  consideration, 
1  declined  it  for  the  present.  I  had  been  hitherto  always 
unsettled  and  careless  ;  and  therefore  thought  I  had  better 
make  another  voyage  first,  and  learn  to  obey,  and  acquire  a 
further  insight  and  experience  in  business,  before  I  ventured 
to  undertake  such  a  charge.  The  mate  of  the  vessel  I  came 
home  in  was  preferred  to  the  command  of  a  new  ship,  and  I 
engaged  to  go  in  the  station  of  mate  with  him.  I  made  a 
short  visit  to  London,  &c,  which  did  not  fully  answer  my 


52 


LIFE  OP  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[52 


views.    I  had  but  one  opportunity  of  seeing  Mrs.  N  ,  of 

which  I  availed  myself  very  little  ;  for  I  was  always  exceed- 
ingly awkward  in  pleading  my  own  cause  in  our  conversa- 
tion. But  after  my  return  to  Liverpool,  I  put  the  question 
in  such  a  manner,  by  letter,  that  she  could  not  avoid  (unless 
I  had  greatly  mistaken  her)  coming  to  some  sort  of  an  ex- 
planation. Her  answer  (though  penned  with  abundance  of 
caution)  satisfied  me ;  as  I  collected  from  it  that  she  was 
free  from  any  other  engagement,  and  not  unwilling  to  wait 
the  event  of  the  voyage  I  had  undertaken.  I  should  be 
ashamed  to  trouble  you  with  these  little  details,  if  you  had 
not  yourself  desired  me. 


LETTER  X. 

My  connexions  with  sea-affairs  have  often  led  me  to 
think,  that  the  varieties  observable  in  Christian  experience 
may  be  properly  illustrated  from  the  circumstances  of  a  voy- 
age. Imagine  to  yourself  a  number  of  vessels,  at  different 
times,  and  from  different  places,  bound  to  the  same  port; 
there  are  some  things  in  which  all  these  would  agree — the 
compass  steered  by,  the  port  in  view,  the  general  rules  of 
navigation,  both  as  to  the  management  of  the  vessel  and  deter- 
mining their  astronomical  observations,  would  be  the  same 
in  all.  In  other  respects  they  would  differ  ;  perhaps  no  two 
of  them  would  meet  with  the  same  distribution  of  winds  and 
weather.  Some  we  see  set  out  with  a  prosperous  gale  ;  and 
when  they  almost  think  their  passage  secured,  they  are 
checked  by  adverse  blasts  ;  and,  after  enduring  much  hard- 
ship and  danger,  and  frequent  expectations  of  shipwreck, 
they  just  escape,  and  reach  the  desired  haven.  Others  meet 
the  greatest  difficulties  at  first ;  they  put  forth  in  a  storm, 
and  are  often  beaten  back ;  at  length  their  voyage  proves 
favorable,  and  they  enter  the  port  with  a  rich  and  abundant 
entrance.  Some  are  hard  beset  with  cruisers  and  enemies, 
and  obliged  to  fight  their  way  through ;  others  meet  with 
little  remarkable  in  their  passage.  Is  it  not  thus  in  the 
spiritual  life  1  All  true  believers  walk  by  the  same  rule,  and 
mind  the  same  things  ;  the  word  of  God  is  their  compass ; 
Jesus  is  both  their  polar  star  and  their  sun  of  righteousness ; 


53] 


LIFE  OF  REV.   JOHN  NEWTON. 


53 


their  hearts  and  faces  are  all  set  Sion-ward.  Thus  far  they 
are  as  one  body,  animated  by  one  spirit ;  yet  their  expe- 
rience, formed  upon  these  common  principles,  is  far  from 
being  uniform.  The  Lord,  in  his  first  call,  and  his  follow- 
ing dispensations,  has  a  regard  to  the  situation,  temper,  and 
talents  of  each,  and  to  the  particular  services  or  trials  he  has 
appointed  them  for.  Though  all  are  exercised  at  times,  yet 
some  pass  through  the  voyage  of  life  much  more  smoothly 
than  others.  But  he  "  who  walketh  upon  the  wings  of  the 
wind,  and  measures  the  waters  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand," 
will  not  suffer  an)'  of  whom  he  has  once  taken  charge  to 
perish  in  the  storms,  though  for  a  season,  perhaps,  many  of 
them  are  ready  to  give  up  all*hopes. 

We  must  not,  therefore,  make  the  experience  of  others, 
in  all  respects,  a  rule  to  ourselves,  nor  our  own  a  rule  to 
others  ;  yet  these  are  common  mistakes,  and  productive  of 
many  more.  As  to  myself,  every  part  of  my  case  has  been 
extraordinary.  I  have  hardly  met  a  single  instance  resem- 
bling it.  Few,  very  few,  have  been  recovered  from  such  a 
dreadful  state  ;  and  the  few  that  have  been  thus  favored 
have  generally  passed  through  the  most  severe  convictions  ; 
and  after  the  Lord  has  given  them  peace,  their  future  lives 
have  been  usually  more  zealous,  bright,  and  exemplary  than 
common.  Now,  as  on  the  one  hand,  my  convictions  were 
very  moderate,  and  far  below  what  might  have  been  expect- 
ed from  the  dreadful  review  I  had  to  make ;  so,  on  the 
ether,  my  first  beginnings  in  a  religious  course  were  as  faint 
as  can  be  well  imagined.  I  never  knew  that  season  alluded 
to,  Jer.  2:2;  Rev.  2  :  4,  usually  called  the  time  of  the  first 
love.  Who  would  not  expect  to  hear  that,  after  such  a  won- 
derful unhoped-for  deliverance  as  I  had  received,  and  after 
my  eyes  were  in  some  measure  enlightened  to  see  things 
aright,  I  should  immediately  cleave  to  the  Lord  and  his 
ways  with  full  purpose  of  heart,  and  consult  no  more  with 
flesh  and  blood?  But,  alas!  it  was  far  otherwise  with  me. 
I  had  learned  to  pray ;  I  set  some  value  upon  the  word  of 
God,  and  was  no  longer  a  libertine  :  but  my  soul  still  cleaved 
to  the  dust.  Soon  after  my  departure  from  Liverpool  I  be- 
gan to  intermit,  and  grow  slack  in  waiting  upon  the  Lord ; 
1  grew  vain  and  trifling  in  my  conversation ;  and  though  my 
heart  smote  me  often,  yet  my  armor  was  gone,  and  I  de- 
clined fast ;  and  by  the  time  I  arrived  at  Guinea  I  seemed 


54 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[54 


to  have  forgot  all  the  Lord's  mercies,  and  my  own  engage- 
ments, and  was  (profaneness  excepted)  almost  as  bad  as  be- 
fore. The  enemy  prepared  a  train  of  temptations,  and  I 
became  his  easy  prey  ;  and,  for  about  a  month,  he  lulled  me 
asleep  in  a  course  of  evil,  of  which,  a  few  months  before,  I 
could  not  have  supposed  myself  any  longer  capable.  How 
much  propriety  is  there  in  the  apostle's  advice,  "  Take  heed, 
lest  any  of  you  be  hardened  through  the  deceitfulness  of  sin !" 
O,  who  can  be  sufficiently  upon  their  guard !  Sin  first  de- 
ceives, and  then  it  hardens.  I  was  now  fast  bound  in  chains ; 
1  had  little  desire,  and  no  power  at  all,  to  recover  myself. 
I  could  not  but  at  times  reflect  how  it  was  with  me ;  but  if 
I  attempted  to  struggle  with  it,  it  was  in  vain.  I  was  just 
like  Samson  when  he  said,  "  I  will  go  forth  and  shake  my- 
self as  at  other  times ;"  but  the  Lord  was  departed,  and  he 
found  himself  helpless  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  By  the 
remembrance  of  this  interval,  the  Lord  has  often  instructed 
me  since,  what  a  poor  creature  I  am  in  myself,  incapable  of 
standing  a  single  hour  without  continual  fresh  supplies  of 
strength  and  grace  from  the  fountain-head. 

At  length  the  Lord,  whose  mercies  are  infinite,  interposed 
in  my  behalf.  My  business  in  this  voyage,  while  upon  the 
coast,  was  to  sail  from  place  to  place  in  the  long-boat,  to 
purchase  slaves.  The  ship  was  at  Sierra  Leone,  and  I  then 
at  the  Plantanes,  the  scene  of  my  former  captivity,  where 
every  thing  I  saw  might  seem  to  remind  me  of  my  ingrati- 
tude. I  was  in  easy  circumstances,  courted  by  those  who 
formerly  despised  me :  the  lime-trees  1  had  planted  were 
growing  tall,  and  promised  fruit  the  following  year  ;  against 
which  time  I  had  expectations  of  returning  with  a  ship  of 
my  own.  But  none  of  these  things  affected  me,  till,  as  I 
have  said,  the  Lord  again  interposed  to  save  me.  He  visited 
me  with  a  violent  fever,  which  broke  the  fatal  chain,  and 
once  more  brought  me  to  myself.  But,  O  what  a  prospect ! 
I  thought  myself  now  summoned  away.  My  past  dangers 
and  deliverances,  my  earnest  prayers  in  the  time  of  trouble, 
my  solemn  vows  before  the  Lord,  and  my  ungrateful  returns 
for  all  his  goodness,  were  all  present  to  my  mind  at  once. 
Then  I  began  to  wish  that  the  Lord  had  suffered  me  to  sink 
into  the  ocean  when  I  first  besought  his  mercy.  For  a  little 
while  I  concluded  the  door  of  hope  to  be  quite  shut ;  but  this 
rontinued  not  long.   Weak,  and  almost  delirious,  I  arose 


55] 


LIFE  OP  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


55 


from  my  bed,  and  crept  to  a  retired  part  of  the  island ;  and 
here  I  found  a  renewed  liberty  to  pray.  I  durst  make  no 
more  resolves,  but  cast  myself  before  the  Lord,  to  do  with 
me  as  he  should  please.  I  do  not  remember  that  any  parti- 
cular text  or  remarkable  discovery  was  presented  to  my 
mind ;  but,  in  general,  I  was  enabled  to  hope  and  believe 
in  a  crucified  Savior.  The  burden  was  removed  from  my 
conscience,  and  not  only  my  peace  but  my  health  was  re- 
stored ;  I  cannot  say  instantaneously ;  but  I  recovered  from 
that  hour;  and  so  fast  that  when  I  returned  to  the  ship,  two 
days  afterward,  I  was  perfectly  well  before  I  got  on  board. 
And  from  that  time,  I  trust,  I  have  been  delivered  from  the 
power  and  dominion  of  sin  ;  though,  as  to  the  effects  and  con- 
flicts of  sin  dwelling  in  me,  I  still  "  groan,  being  burdened." 
I  now  began  again  to  wait  upon  the  Lord ;  and  though  I  have 
often  grieved  his  Spirit,  and  foolishly  wandered  from  him 
since,  (when,  alas,  shall  I  be  more  wise !)  yet  his  powerful 
grace  has  hitherto  preserved  me  from  such  black  declensions 
as  this  I  have  last  recorded:  and  I  humbly  trust  in  his  mercy 
and  promises,  that  he  will  be  my  guide  and  guard  to  the  end. 

My  leisure  hours  in  this  voyage  were  chiefly  employed  in 
learning  the  Latin  language,  which  I  had  now  entirely  forgot. 
This  desire  took  place  from  an  imitation  I  had  seen  of  one 
of  Horace's  odes  in  a  magazine  I  began  the  attempt  under 
the  greatest  disadvantages  possible  ;  for  I  pitched  upon  a 
poet,  perhaps  the  most  difficult  of  the  poets,  even  Horace 
himself,  for  my  first  book.  I  had  picked  up  an  old  English 
translation  of  him,  which,  with  Castalio's  Latin  Bible,  were 
all  my  help.  I  forgot  a  Dictionary,  but  I  would  not  there- 
fore give  up  my  purpose.  I  had  the  edition  in  usum  Delphini; 
and,  by  comparing  the  odes  with  the  interpretation,  and 
tracing  the  words,  I  could  understand  from  one  place  to  an- 
other by  the  index,  with  the  assistance  I  could  get  from  the 
Latin  Bible :  in  this  way,  by  dint  of  hard  industry,  often 
waking  when  I  might  have  slept,  I  made  some  progress  be- 
fore I  returned,  and  not  only  understood  the  sense  and 
meaning  of  many  odes,  and  some  of  the  Epistles,  but  began 
to  relish  the  beauties  of  the  composition,  and  acquired  a  spice 
of  what  Mr.  Law  calls  classical  enthusiasm.  And  indeed,  by 
this  means,  I  had  Horace  more  in  my  mind  than  some  who 
are  masters  of  the  Latin  tongue ;  for  my  helps  were  so  few, 
that  I  generally  had  the  passage  fixed  in  my  memory  before 
I  could  fully  understand  its  meaning. 


56 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[56 


My  business  in  the  long-boat,  during  the  eight  months 
we  were  upon  the  Coast,  exposed  me  to  innumerable  dan- 
gers and  perils,  from  burning  suns  and  chilling  dews,  winds, 
rains,  and  thunder-storms,  in  the  open  boat ;  and  on  shore, 
from  long  journeys  through  the  woods,  and  the  temper  of 
the  natives,  who  are  in  many  places  cruel,  treacherous,  and 
watching  opportunities  for  mischief.  Several  boats  in  the 
same  time  were  cut  off,  several  white  men  poisoned,  and  in 
my  own  boat,  I  buried  six  or  seven  people  with  fevers. 
When  going  on  shore,  or  returning  from  it,  in  their  little 
canoes,  I  have  been  more  than  once  or  twice  overset  by  the 
violence  of  the  surf,  or  breach  of  the  sea,  and  brought  to 
land  half-dead  (for  I  could  not  swim.)  An  account  of  such 
escapes  as  I  still  remember,  would  swell  to  several  sheets, 
and  many  more  I  have  perhaps  forgot :  I  shall  only  select 
one  instance,  as  a  specimen  of  that  wonderful  providence 
which  watched  over  me  for  rood,  and  which,  I  doubt  not, 
you  will  think  worthy  of  notice. 

When  our  trade  was  finished,  and  we  were  near  sailing 
to  the  West  Indies,  the  only  remaining  service  I  had  to  per- 
form in  the  boat,  was  to  assist  in  bringing  the  wood  and  wa- 
ter from  the  shore.  We  were  then  at  Rio  Cestors.  I  used 
to  go  into  the  river  in  the  afternoon  with  the  sea-breeze, 
procure  my  loading  in  tho  evening,  and  return  on  board 
in  the  morning  with  the  land-wind.  Several  of  these  little 
voyages  I  had  made ;  but  the  boat  was  become  old,  and  al- 
most unfit  for  use.  This  service  likewise  was  almost  com- 
pleted. One  day,  having  dined  on  board,  I  was  preparing 
to  return  to  the  river  as  formerly :  I  had  taken  leave  of  the 
captain,  received  his  orders,  was  ready  in  the  boat,  and 
just  going  to  put  off,  as  we  term  it?  that  is,  to  let  go  our 
ropes,  and  sail  from  the  ship.  In  that  instant  the  captain 
came  up  from  the  cabin,  and  called  me  on  board  again.  I 
went,  expecting  further  orders;  but  he  said,  that  he  took  it 
in  his  head  (as  he  phrased  it)  that  I  should  remain  that  day 
in  the  ship ;  and  accordingly  ordered  another  man  to  go  in 
my  room.  I  was  surprised  at  this,  as  the  boat  had  never 
been  sent  away  without  me  before,  and  asked  him  the  rea- 
son ;  he  could  give  me  no  reason  but  as  above,  that  so  he 
would  have  it.  Accordingly  the  boat  went  without  me  ;  but 
returned  no  more :  she  sunk  that  night  in  the  river,  and  the 
person  who  had  supplied  my  place  was  drowned.  I  was 


57] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


57 


much  struck  when  we  received  news  of  the  event  the  next 
morning.  The  captain  himself,  though  quite  a  stranger  to 
religion,  so  far  as  to  deny  a  particular  providence,  could 
not  help  being  affected  ;  but  he  declared  that  he  had  no  other 
reason  for  countermanding  me  at  that  time,  but  that  it  came 
suddenly  into  his  mind  to  detain  me. 


LETTER  XI. 

A  few  days  after  I  was  thus  wonderfully  saved  from  an 
unforeseen  danger,  we  sailed  for  Antigua,  and  from  thence 
proceeded  to  Charleston,  in  South  Carolina.  In  this  place 
there  are  many  serious  people ;  but  I  knew  not  where  to 
find  them  out :  indeed  I  was  not  aware  of  a  difference,  but 
supposed  that  all  who  attended  public  worship  were  good 
Christians.  I  was  as  much  in  the  dark  about  preaching,  not 
doubting  but  whatever  came  from  the  pulpit  must  be  very 
good.  I  had  two  or  three  opportunities  of  hearing  a  dissent- 
ing minister,  named  Smith,  who,  by  what  I  have  known 
since,  I  believe  to  have  been  an  excellent  and  powerful 
preacher  of  the  Gospel ;  and  there  was  something  in  his 
manner  that  struck  me,  but  I  did  not  rightly  understand 
him.  The  best  words  that  men  can  speak  are  ineffectual 
till  explained  and  applied  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  who  alone 
can  open  the  heart.  It  pleased  the  Lord,  for  some  time, 
that  I  should  learn  no  more  than  what  he  enabled  me  to  col- 
lect from  my  own  experience  and  reflection.  My  conduct 
was  now  very  inconsistent.  Almost  every  day,  when  busi- 
ness would  permit,  I  used  to  retire  into  the  woods  and  fields 
(for  these,  when  at  hand,  have  always  been  my  favorite 
oratories,)  and  I  trust  I  began  to  taste  the  sweets  of  com- 
munion with  God  in  the  exercises  of  prayer  and  praise; 
and  yet  I  frequently  spent  the  evenings  in  vain  and  worth- 
less company.  Indeed  my  relish  for  worldly  diversions  was 
much  weakened,  and  I  was  rather  a  spectator  than  a  sharer 
in  their  pleasures :  but  I  did  not  as  yet  see  the  necessity  of 
an  absolute  forbearance.  Yet  as  my  compliance  with  cus- 
tom and  company  was  chiefly  owing  to  want  of  light,  rather 
than  to  an  obstinate  attachment,  and  the  Lord  was  pleased 
to  preserve  me,  in  some  good  degree,  I  trust,  from  what  I 

3* 


58 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[58 


knew  was  sinful,  I  had,  for  the  most  part,  peace  of  conscience, 
and  my  strongest  desires  were  toward  the  things  of  God. 
As  yet  I  knew  not  the  force  of  that  precept,  "  Abstain  from 
all  appearance  of  evil ;"  but  very  often  ventured  upon  the 
brink  of  temptation  ;  but  the  Lord  was  gracious  to  my  weak- 
ness, and  would  not  suffer  the  enemy  to  prevail  against  me. 
I  did  not  break  with  the  world  at  once,  (as  might  in  my 
case  have  been  expected)  but  I  was  gradually  led  to  see  the 
inconvenience  and  folly  of  one  thing  after  another ;  and 
when  I  saw  it,  the  Lord  strengthened  me  to  give  it  up.  But 
it  was  some  years  before  I  was  set  quite  at  liberty  from  oc- 
casional compliances  in  many  things,  in  which  at  this  time 
I  durst  by  no  means  allow  myself. 

We  finished  our  voyage,  and  arrived  in  Liverpool.  "When 
the  ship's  affairs  were  settled,  I  went  to  London,  and  from 
thence  (as  you  may  suppose)  I  soon  repaired  to  Kent. 
More  than  seven  years  had  now  elapsed  since  my  first  visit. 
No  views  of  the  kind  could  seem  more  chimerical,  or  could 
subsist  under  greater  discouragements  than  mine  had  done  ; 
yet,  through  the  overruling  goodness  of  God,  while  I  seemed 
abandoned  to  myself,  and  blindly  following  my  own  head- 
strong passions,  I  was  guided  by  a  hand  that  1  knew  not,  to 
the  accomplishment  of  my  wishes.  Every  obstacle  was  now 
removed.  I  had  renounced  my  former  follies,  my  interest 
was  established,  and  friends  on  all  sides  consenting,  the 
point  was  now  entirely  between  ourselves ;  and  after  what 
had  passed,  was  easily  concluded.  Accordingly  our  hands 
were  joined  on  the  1st  of  February,  1750. 

The  satisfaction  I  have  found  in  this  union,  you  will  sup- 
pose has  been  greatly  heightened  by  reflection  on  the  former 
disagreeable  contrasts  I  had  passed  through,  and  the  views 
I  have  had  of  the  singular  mercy  and  providence  of  the 
Lord  in  bringing  it  to  pass.  If  you  please  to  look  back  to 
the  beginning  of  my  sixth  letter,  I  doubt  not  but  you  will 
allow,  that  few  persons  have  known  more,  either  of  the  mi- 
sery or  happiness  of  which  human  life  (as  considered  in  it- 
self) is  capable.  How  easily,  at  a  time  of  life  when  I  was 
so  little  capable  of  judging,  (but  a  few  months  more  than 
seventeen,)  might  my  affections  have  been  fixed  where  they 
could  have  met  with  no  return,  or  where  success  would  have 
been  the  heaviest  disappointment.  The  long  delay  I  met 
with  was  likewise  a  mercy  ;  for  had  I  succeeded  a  year  or 


59] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  J©HN  NEWTON. 


59 


two  sooner,  before  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  change  my  heart, 
we  must  have  been  mutually  unhappy,  even  as  to  the  pre- 
sent life.  "  Surely  mercy  and  goodness  have  followed  me 
all  my  days !" 

But,  alas !  I  soon  began  to  feel  that  my  heart  was  still 
hard  and  ungrateful  to  the  God  of  my  life.  This  crowning 
mercy,  which  raised  me  to  all  I  could  ask  or  wish  in  a  tem- 
poral view,  and  which  ought  to  have  been  an  animating  mo- 
tive to  obedience  and  praise,  had  a  contrary  effect.  I  rested 
in  the  gift,  and  forgot  the  Giver.  My  poor  narrow  heart  was 
satisfied.  A  cold  and  careless  frame,  as  to  spiritual  things, 
took  place,  and  gained  ground  daily.  Happily  for  me  the 
season  was  advancing,  and  in  June  I  received  orders  to  re- 
pair to  Liverpool.  This  roused  me  from  my  dream.  I 
need  not  tell  you  that  1  found  the  pains  of  absence  and  sepa- 
ration fully  proportioned  to  my  preceding  pleasure.  It  was 
hard,  very  hard,  to  part,  especially  as  conscience  interfered, 
and  suggested  to  me  how  little  I  deserved  that  we  should  be 
spared  to  meet  again.  But  the  Lord  supported  me.  I  was 
a  poor,  faint,  idolatrous  creature  ;  but  I  had  now  some  ac- 
quaintance with  the  way  of  access  to  a  throne  of  grace  by 
the  blood  of  Jesus ;  and  peace  was  soon  restored  to  my 
conscience.  Yet,  through  all  the  following  voyage,  my  irre- 
gular and  excessive  affections  were  as  thorns  in  my  eyes, 
and  often  made  my  other  blessings  tasteless  and  insipid. 
But  He  who  doth  all  things  well  over-ruled  this  likewise 
for  good.  It  became  an  occasion  of  quickening  me  in  prayer 
both  for  my  wife  and  myself;  it  increased  my  indifference 
for  company  and  amusement ;  it  habituated  me  to  a  kind  of 
voluntary  self-denial,  which  I  was  afterward  taught  to  im- 
prove to  a  better  purpose. 

While  I  remained  in  England  we  corresponded  every 
post ;  and  all  the  while  I  used  the  sea  afterward,  I  constant- 
ly kept  up  the  practice  of  writing  two  or  three  times  a-week, 
(if  weather  and  business  permitted,)  though  no  conveyance 
homeward  offered  for  six  or  eight  months  together.  My 
packets  were  usually  heavy ;  and  as  not  one  of  them  at  any 
time  miscarried,  I  have  to  the  amount  of  nearly  200  sheets 
of  paper  now  lying  in  my  bureau  of  that  correspondence. 
I  mention  this  little  relief  by  which  I  contrived  to  soften 
the  intervals  of  absence,  because  it  had  a  good  effect  beyond 
my  first  intention.  It  habituated  me  to  think  and  write  upon 


60 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[60 


a  great  variety  of  subjects ;  and  I  acquired,  insensibly,  a 
greater  readiness  of  expressing  myself  than  I  should  other- 
wise have  attained.  As  I  gained  more  ground  in  religious 
knowledge,  my  letters  became  more  serious ;  and,  at  times, 
I  still  find  an  advantage  in  looking  them  over;  especially  as 
they  remind  me  of  many  providential  incidents,  and  the 
state  of  my  mind  at  different  periods  in  these  voyages, 
which  would  otherwise  have  escaped  my  memory. 

I  sailed  from  Liverpool  in  August,  1750,  commander  of 
a  good  ship.  I  have  no  very  extraordinary  events  to  re- 
count from  this  period,  and  shall  therefore  contract  my  me- 
moirs, lest  I  become  tedious :  yet  I  am  willing  to  give  you 
a  brief  sketch  of  my  history  down  to  1755,  the  year  of  my 
settlement  in  my  present  situation.  I  had  now  the  com- 
mand and  care  of  thirty  persons;  I  endeavored  to  treat 
them  with  humanity,  and  to  set  them  a  good  example :  I 
likewise  established  public  worship,  twice  every  Lord's-day, 
officiating  myself.  Farther  than  this  I  did  not  proceed  while 
I  continued  in  that  emplo3'ment. 

Having  now  much  leisure,  I  prosecuted  the  study  of  the 
Latin  with  good  success.  I  took  a  dictionary  this  voyage, 
and  procured  two  or  three  other  books ;  but  still  it  was  my 
hap  to  choose  the  hardest.  1  added  Juvenal  to  Horace  ;  and, 
for  prose  authors,  I  pitched  upon  Livy,  Cfesar,  and  Sallust. 
You  will  easily  conceive,  Sir,  that  I  had  hard  work  to  begin 
(where  I  should  have  left  off)  with  Horace  and  Livy.  I 
was  not  aware  of  the  difference  of  style :  I  had  heard  Livy 
highly  commended,  and  was  resolved  to  understand  him.  I 
began  with  the  first  page,  and  laid  down  a  rule,  which  I 
seldom  departed  from,  not  to  proceed  to  a  second  period 
till  I  understood  the  first,  and  so  on.  I  was  often  at  a  stand, 
but  seldom  discouraged :  here  and  there  I  found  a  few  lines 
quite  obstinate,  and  was  forced  to  break  in  upon  my  rule, 
and  give  them  up,  especially  as  my  edition  had  only  the 
text,  without  any  notes  to  assist  me.  But  there  were  not 
many  such ;  for  before  the  close  of  that  voyage  I  could 
(with  a  few  exceptions)  read  Livy  from  end  to  end,  almost 
as  readily  as  an  English  author.  And  I  found,  in  surmount- 
ing this  difficulty,  I  had  surmounted  all  in  one.  Other  prose 
authors,  when  they  came  in  my  way,  cost  me  little  trouble. 
In  short,  in  the  space  of  two  or  three  voyages  I  became  to- 
lerably acquainted  with  the  best  classics  ;  (I  put  all  I  have  to 


61] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


61 


say  upon  this  subject  together ;)  I  read  Terence,  Virgil,  and 
several  pieces  of  Cicero,  and  the  modern  classics,  Buchanan, 
Erasmus,  and  Cassimir.  At  length  I  conceived  a  design  of 
becoming  a  Ciceronian  myself,  and  thought  it  would  be  a  fine 
thing  indeed  to  write  pure  and  elegant  Latin.  I  made  some 
essays  toward  it,  but  by  this  time  the  Lord  was  pleased  to 
draw  me  nearer  to  himself,  and  to  give  me  a  fuller  view  of 
the  "  pearl  of  great  price,"  the  inestimable  treasure  hid  in 
the  field  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  ;  and,  for  the  sake  of  this,  I 
was  made  willing  to  part  with  all  my  newly-acquired  riches. 
1  began  to  think  that  life  was  too  short  (especially  my  life) 
to  admit  of  leisure  for  such  elaborate  trifling.  Neither  poet 
nor  historian  could  tell  me  a  word  of  Jesus,  and  I  therefore 
applied  myself  to  those  who  could.  The  classics  were  at 
first  restrained  to  one  morning  in  the  week,  and  at  length 
quite  laid  aside.  I  have  not  looked  into  Livy  these  five 
years,  and  I  suppose  I  could  not  now  well  understand  him. 
Some  passages  in  Horace  and  Virgil  I  still  admire  ;  but  they 
seldom  come  in  my  way.  I  prefer  Buchanan's  Psalms  to  a 
whole  shelf  of  Elzevirs.  But  this  much  I  have  gained — and 
more  than  this  I  am  not  solicitous  about — so  much  of  the 
Latin  as  enables  me  to  read  any  useful  or  curious  book  that 
is  published  in  that  language.  About  the  same  time,  and 
for  the  same  reason,  that  I  quarrelled  with  Livy,  I  laid  aside 
the  mathematics.  I  found  they  not  only  cost  me  much  time, 
but  engrossed  my  thoughts  too  far;  my  head  was  literally 
full  of  schemes.  I  was  weary  of  cold,  contemplative  truths, 
which  can  neither  warm  nor  amend  the  heart,  but  rather 
tend  to  aggrandize  self.  I  found  no  traces  of  this  wisdom  in 
the  life  of  Jesus  or  the  writings  of  Paul.  I  do  not  regret  that- 
I  have  had  some  opportunities  of  knowing  the  first  principles 
of  these  things  ;  but  I  see  much  cause  to  praise  the  Lord  that 
he  inclined  me  to  stop  in  time;  and,  whilst  I  was  "  spending 
my  labour  for  that  which  is  not  bread,"  was  pleased  to  set  be- 
fore me  "  wine  and  milk,  without  money  and  without  price." 

My  first  voyage  was  fourteen  months,  through  various 
scenes  of  danger  and  difficulty,  but  nothing  very  remarkable ; 
and  as  I  intend  to  be  more  particular  with  rqgard  to  the 
second,  I  shall  only  say,  that  I  was  preserved  from  every 
harm ;  and  having  seen  many  fall  on  my  right  hand  and  on 
my  left,  I  was  brought  home  in  peace,  and  restored  to  where 
my  thoughts  had  been  often  directed,  November  2, 1751. 


62 


LIFE  OF  RET.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[62 


LETTER  XII. 

I  almost  wish  I  could  recall  my  last  sheet,  and  retract 
my  promise.  I  fear  I  have  engaged  too  far,  and  shall  prove 
a  mere  Egotist.  Whcit  have  I  more  that  can  deserve  your 
notice'?  However,  it  is  some  satisfaction  that  I  am  now 
writing  to  yourself  only ;  and  I  believe  you  will  have  can- 
dor to  excuse  what  nothing  but  a  sense  of  your  kindness 
could  extort  from  me. 

Soon  after  the  period  where  my  last  closes,  that  is,  in 
the  interval  between  my  first  and  second  voyage  after  my 
marriage,  I  began  to  keep  a  sort  of  diary  ;  a  practice  which 
I  have  since  found  of  great  use.  I  had  in  this  interval  re- 
peated proofs  of  the  ingratitude  and  evil  of  my  heart.  A  life 
of  ease  in  the  midst  of  my  friends,  and  the  full  satisfaction 
of  my  wishes,  was  not  favorable  to  the  progress  of  grace, 
and  afforded  cause  of  daily  humiliation.  Yet,  upon  the 
whole,  I  gained  ground.  I  became  acquainted  with  books 
which  gave  me  a  farther  view  of  Christian  doctrine  and  ex- 
perience ;  particularly,  ScougaWs  Life  of  God  in  the  Sovl 
of  Man,  Hervey's  Meditations,  and  the  Life  of  Colonel  Gar- 
diner. As  to  preaching,  I  heard  none  but  the  common  sort, 
and  had  hardly  an  idea  of  any  better  ;  neither  had  I  the  ad- 
vantage of  Christian  acquaintance.  I  was  likewise  greatly 
hindered  by  a  cowardly  reserved  spirit ;  I  was  afraid  of  be- 
ing thought  precise ;  and  though  I  could  not  live  without 
prayer,  I  durst  not  propose  it  even  to  my  wife,  till  she  her- 
self first  put  me  upon  it ;  so  far  was  I  from  those  expres- 
sions of  zeal  and  love  which  seem  so  suitable  to  the  case  of 
one  who  has  had  much  forgiven.  In  a  few  months  the  re- 
turning season  called  me  abroad  again,  and  I  sailed  from 
Liverpool  in  a  new  ship,  July,  1752. 

A  seafaring  life  is  necessarily  excluded  from  the  benefit 
of  public  ordinances  and  Christian  communion  :  but,  as  I 
have  observed,  my  loss  upon  these  heads  was  at  this  time 
but  small.  In  other  respects,  I  know  not  any  calling  that 
seems  more  favorable,  or  affords  greater  advantages  to  an 
awakened  mind,  for  promoting  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul : 
especially  to  a  person  who  has  the  command  of  a  ship,  and 
thereby  has  it  in  his  power  to  restrain  gross  irregularities  in 
others,  and  to  dispose  of  his  own  time  ;  and  still  more  so  in 
African  voyages,  as  these  ships  carry  a  double  proportion 


63] 


LIFE  OP  REV.  JOHN  NEWTOX. 


03 


of  men  and  officers  to  most  others,  which  made  my  depart- 
ment very  easy ;  and,  excepting  the  hurry  of  trade,  &c^ 
upon  the  coast,  which  is  rather  occasional  than  constant, 
afforded  me  abundance  of  leisure.  To  be  at  sea  in  these 
circumstances,  withdrawn  out  of  the  reach  of  innumerable 
temptations,  with  opportunity  and  turn  of  mind  disposed  to 
observe  the  wonders  of  God  in  the  great  deep ;  with  the  two 
noblest  objects  of  sight,  the  expanded  heavens,  and  the  ex- 
panded ocean,  continually  in  view  ;  and  where  evident  in- 
terpositions of  Divine  Providence,  in  answer  to  prayer, 
occur  almost  every  day;  these  are  helps  to  quicken  and 
confirm  the  life  of  faith,  which,  in  a  good  measure,  supply 
to  a  religious  sailor  the  want  of  those  advantages  which  can 
be  enjoyed  only  upon  the  shore.  And,  indeed,  though  my 
knowledge  of  spiritual  things,  as  knowledge  is  usually  esti- 
mated, was  at  this  time  very  small,  yet  I  sometimes  look 
back  with  regret  upon  these  scenes.  I  never  knew  sweeter  or 
more  frequent  hours  of  divine  communion  than  in  my  last 
two  voyages  to  Guinea,  when  I  was  either  almost  secluded 
from  society  on  shipboard,  or  when  on  shore  amongst  the 
natives.  I  have  wandered  through  the  woods,  reflecting  on 
the  singular  goodness  of  the  Lord  to  me,  in  a  place  where, 
perhaps,  there  was  not  a  person  that  knew  him  for  some 
thousand  miles  round  me.  Many  a  time,  upon  these  occa- 
sions, I  have  restored  the  beautiful  lines  of  Propcrtius  to 
their  right  owner;  lines  full  of  blasphemy  and  madness  when 
addressed  to  a  creature,  but  full  of  comfort  and  propriety  in 
the  mouth  of  a  believer. 

Sic  ego  desertis  possim  bene  vivere  sylvls, 
Q,uo  nulla  humano  sit  via  trita  pede: 
Tu  mibi  curarum  requies,  in  nocte  vel  atra 
Lumen,  et  in  solis  tu  mini  turba  locis. 

PARAPHRASED. 

In  desert  woods,  with  thee,  my  God, 
Where  human  footsteps  never  trod, 

How  happy  could  I  be ; 
Thou  my  repose  from  care,  my  light 
Amidst  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
In  solitude  my  company. 

In  the  course  of  this  voyage  I  was  wonderfully  preserved 
in  the  midst  of  many  obvious  and  many  unforeseen  dangers. 


64 


LIFE  OP  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[64 


At  one  time  there  was  a  conspiracy  amongst  my  own  people 
to  turn  pirates,  and  take  the  ship  from  me.  When  the  plot 
was  nearly  ripe,  and  they  waited  only  a  convenient  oppor- 
tunity, two  of  those  concerned  in  it  were  taken  ill  in  one  day : 
one  of  them  died,  and  he  was  the  only  person  I  buried  while 
on  board.  This  suspended  the  affair,  and  opened  a  way  to 
its  discovery,  or  the  consequence  might  have  been  fatal. 
The  slaves  on  board  were  likewise  frequently  plotting  in- 
surrections, and  were  sometimes  upon  the  very  brink  of 
mischief;  but  it  was  always  disclosed  in  due  time.  When 
I  have  thought  myself  most  secure,  I  have  been  suddenly 
alarmed  with  danger  ;  and  when  I  have  almost  despaired  of 
life,  as  sudden  a  deliverance  has  been  vouchsafed  me.  My 
stay  upon  the  coast  was  long,  the  trade  very  precarious ; 
and,  in  pursuit  of  my  business,  both  on  board  and  on  shore, 
I  was  in  deaths  often.  Let  the  following  instance  serve  as 
a  specimen : 

I  was  at  a  place  called  Mana,  near  Cape  Mount,  where  I 
had  transacted  very  large  concerns  ;  and  had,  at  the  time  I 
am  speaking  of,  some  debts  and  accounts  to  settle  which 
required  my  attendance  on  shore,  and  I  intended  to  go  the 
next  morning.  When  I  arose  I  left  the  ship,  according  to 
my  purpose,  but  when  I  came  near  the  shore,  the  surf,  or 
breach  of  the  sea,  ran  so  high  that  I  was  almost  afraid  to 
attempt  landing:  indeed  I  had  often  ventured  at  a  worse 
time ;  but  I  felt  an  inward  hinderance  and  backwardness, 
which  I  could  not  account  for :  the  surf  furnished  a  pretext 
for  indulging  it ;  and  after  waiting  and  hesitating  for  about 
half  an  hour,  I  returned  to  the  ship,  without  doing  my  busi- 
ness ;  which  I  think  I  never  did  but  that  morning  in  all  the 
time  I  used  that  trade.  But  I  soon  perceived  the  reason  of 
all  this :  It  seems,  the  day  before  I  intended  to  land,  a  scan- 
dalous and  groundless  charge  had  been  laid  against  me,  (by 
whose  instigation  I  could  never  learn,)  which  greatly  threat- 
ened my  honor  and  interest,  both  in  Africa  and  England, 
and  would,  perhaps,  humanly  speaking,  have  affected  my 
life,  if  I  had  landed  according  to  my  intention.  I  shall, 
perhaps,  inclose  a  letter  which  will  give  a  full  account  of 
this  strange  adventure ;  and  therefore  shall  say  no  more  of 
it  here,  any  further  than  to  tell  you  that  an  attempt,  aimed 
to  destroy  either  my  life  or  character,  and  which  might,  very 
probably,  in  its  consequences,  have  ruined  my  voyage, 


65] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


63 


passed  off  without  the  least  inconvenience.  The  person  most 
concerned  owed  me  about  a  hundred  pounds,  which  he  sent 
me  in  a  huff ;  and  otherwise,  perhaps,  would  not  have  paid 
me  at  all.  1  was  very  uneasy  tor  a  few  hours,  but  was  soon 
afterward  comforted.  I  heard  no  more  of  my  accusation 
till  the  next  voyage;  and  then  it  was  publicly  acknowledged 
to  be  a  malicious  calumny,  without  the  least  shadow  of  a 
ground. 

Such  were  the  vicissitudes  and  difficulties  through  which 
the  Lord  preserved  me.  Now  and  then  both  faith  and  pa- 
tience were  sharply  exercised ;  but  suitable  strength  was 
given ;  and  as  such  things  did  not  occur  every  day,  the  study 
of  the  Latin,  of  which  I  gave  a  general  account  in  my  last, 
was  renewed,  and  carried  on  from  time  to  time  when  busi- 
ness would  permit.  I  was  mostly  very  regular  in  the  ma- 
nagement of  my  time  ;  I  allotted  eight  hours  for  sleep  and 
meals,  eight  hours  for  exercise  and  devotion,  and  eight  hours 
to  my  books:  and  thus,  by  diversifying  my  engagements, 
the  whole  day  was  agreeably  filled  up  ;  and  I  seldom  found 
a  day  too  long,  or  an  hour  to  spare.  My  studies  kept  me 
employed ;  and  so  far  it  was  well ;  otherwise  they  were 
hardly  worth  the  time  they  cost,  as  they  led  me  to  an  ad- 
miration of  false  models  and  false  maxims ;  an  almost  un- 
avoidable consequence  (I  suppose)  of  an  admiration  of  classic 
authors.  Abating  what  I  have  attained  of  the  language,  I 
think  I  might  have  read  Cassandra  or  Cleopatra  to  as  good 
purpose  as  I  read  Livy,  whom  I  now  account  an  equal 
romancer,  though  in  a  different  way. 

From  the  coast  I  went  to  St.  Christopher's  ;  and  here  my 
idolatrous  heart  was  its  own  punishment.  The  letters  I  ex- 
pected from  Mrs.  Newton  were  by  mistake  forwarded  to 
Antigua,  which  had  been  at  first  proposed  as  our  port.  As 
I  was  certain  of  her  punctuality  in  writing,  if  alive,  I  con- 
cluded, by  not  hearing  from  her,  that  she  was  surely  dead. 
This  fear  affected  me  more  and  more ;  I  lost  my  appetite 
and  rest ;  I  felt  an  incessant  pain  in  my  stomach ;  and  in 
about  three  weeks  time  I  was  near  sinking  under  the  weight 
of  an  imaginary  stroke.  1  felt  some  severe  symptoms  of 
that  mixture  of  pride  and  madness  which  is  commonly  called 
a  broken  heart ;  and  indeed  I  wonder  that  this  case  is  not 
more  common  than  it  appears  to  be.  How  often  do  the 
potsherds  of  the  earth  presume  to  contend  with  their  Maker.' 


66 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[66 


and  what  a  wonder  of  mercy  is  it  that  they  are  not  all 
broken!  However,  my  complaint  was  not  all  grief;  con- 
science had  a  share.  I  thought  my  unfaithfulness  to  God 
had  deprived  me  of  her,  especially  my  backwardness  in 
speaking  of  spiritual  things,  which  I  could  hardly  attempt, 
even  to  her.  It  was  this  thought,  that  I  had  lost  invaluable, 
irrecoverable  opportunities,  which  both  duty  and  affection 
should  have  engaged  me  to  improve,  that  chiefly  stung  me  ; 
and  I  thought  I  would  have  given  the  world  to  know  that 
she  was  living,  that  I  might  at  least  discharge  my  engage- 
ments by  writing,  though  I  was  never  to  see  her  again.  This 
was  a  sharp  lesson ;  but  I  hope  it  did  me  good ;  and  when 
I  had  thus  suffered  some  weeks,  I  thought  of  sending  a 
small  vessel  to  Antigua.  I  did  so ;  and  she  brought  me 
several  packets;  which  restored  my  health  and  peace,  and 
gave  me  a  strong  contrast  of  the  Lord's  goodness  to  me, 
and  my  unbelief  and  ingratitude  toward  him. 

In  August,  1753,  I  returned  to  Liverpool.  My  stay  was 
very  short  at  home  that  voyage — only  six  weeks.  In  that 
space  nothing  very  memorable  occurred ;  I  shall  therefore 
begin  my  next  with  an  account  of  my  third  and  last  voyage. 
And  thus  I  give  both  you  and  myself  hopes  of  a  speedy 
period  to  these  memoirs,  which  begin  to  be  tedious  and 
minute,  even  to  myself ;  only  I  am  animated  by  the  thought 
that  I  write  at  your  request ;  and  have  therefore  an  oppor- 
tunity of  showing  myself  Yours,  &c. 


LETTER  XIII. 

My  third  voyage  was  shorter  and  less  perplexed  than 
either  of  my  former.  Before  I  sailed  I  met  with  a  young 
man  who  had  formerly  been  a  midshipman,  and  my  intimate 
companion  on  board  the  Harwich.  He  was,  at  the  time  I 
first  knew  him,  a  sober  youth ;  but  I  had  found  too  much 
success  in  my  unhappy  attempts  to  infect  him  with  libertine 
principles.  When  we  met  at  Liverpool,  our  acquaintance 
was  renewed  upon  the  ground  of  our  former  intimacy.  He 
had  good  sense,  and  had  read  many  good  books.  Our  con- 
versation frequently  turned  upon  religion ;  and  I  was  very 
desirous  to  repair  the  mischief  I  had  done  him.  I  gave  him 


67] 


LIFE  OF  UEV.   JOHN  NEWTON. 


6? 


a  plain  account  of  the  manner  and  reason  of  my  change, 
and  used  every  argument  to  persuade  him  to  relinquish  his 
infidel- schemes ;  and  when  I  sometimes  pressed  him  so 
close  that  he  had  no  other  reply  to  make,  he  would  remind 
mc  that  I  was  the  very  first  person  who  had  given^him  an 
idea  of  his  liberty.  This  occasioned  me  many  mournful  re- 
flections. He  was  then  going  master  to  Guinea  himself; 
but  before  his  ship  was  ready  his  merchant  became  a  bank- 
rupt, which  disconcerted  his  voyage.  As  he  had  no  farther 
expectations  for  that  year,  I  offered  to  take  him  with  me  as 
a  companion,  that  he  might  gain  a  knowledge  of  the  coast; 
and  the  gentleman  who  employed  me  promised  to  provide 
for  him  upon  his  return.  My  view  in  this  was  not  so  much 
to  serve  him  in  his  business,  as  to  have  an  opportunity  of 
debating  the  point  with  him  at  leisure  ;  and  I  hoped,  in  the 
course  of  my  voyage,  my  arguments,  example,  and  prayers, 
might  have  some  good  effect  on  him.  My  intention  in  this 
step  was  better  than  my  judgment;  and  I  had  frequent 
reason  to  repent  it.  He  was  exceedingly  profane,  and  grew 
worse  and  worse.  I  saw  in  him  a  most  livelv  picture  of 
what  I  had  once  been ;  but  it  was  very  inconvenient  to  have 
it  always  before  my  eyes.  Besides,  he  was  not  only  deaf 
to  my  remonstrances  himself,  but  labored  all  he  could  to 
counteract  my  influence  upon  others.  His  spirit  and  pas- 
sions were  likewise  exceedingly  high;  so  that  it  required  all 
my  prudence  and  authority  to  hold  him  in  any  degree  of  re- 
straint. He  was  as  a  sharp  thorn  in  my  side  for  some  time  ; 
but  at  length  I  had  an  opportunity  upon  the  coast  of  buying 
a  small  vessel,  which  I  supplied  with  a  cargo  from  my  own, 
and  gave  him  the  command,  and  sent  him  away  to  trade  on 
the  ship's  account.  When  we  parted,  I  repeated  and  en- 
forced my  best  advice.  I  believe  his  friendship  and  regard 
were  as  great  as  could  be  expected,  when  our  principles 
were  so  diametrically  opposite.  He  seemed  greatly  affected 
when  I  left  him:  but  my  words  had  no  weight  with  him; 
when  he  found  himself  at  liberty  from  under  my  eye,  he 
gave  a  hasty  loose  to  every  appetite  ;  and  his  violent  irre- 
gularities, joined  to  the  heat  of  the  climate,  soon  threw  hirn 
into  a  malignant  fever,  which  carried  him  off  in  a  few  days. 
He  died  convinced,  but  not  changed.  The  accounts  I  had 
from  those  who  were  with  him  were  dreadful.  His  rage  and 
despair  struck  them  all  with  horror ;  and  he  pronounced  his 


68 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


own  fatal  doom  before  he  expired,  without  any  appearance 
that  he  either  hoped  or  asked  for  mercy.  I  thought  this  awful 
contrast  might  not  be  improper  to  give  you,  as  a  stronger 
view  of  the  distinguishing  goodness  of  God  to  me,  the  chief 
of  sinners. 

I  left  the  coast  in  about  four  months,  and  sailed  for  St. 
Christopher's.  Hitherto  I  had  enjoyed  a  perfect  state  of 
health,  equally  in  every  climate,  for  several  years ;  but  upon 
this  passage  I  was  visited  with  a  fever,  which  gave  me  a 
very  near  prospect  of  eternity.  I  have  obtained  liberty  to 
inclose  you  three  or  four  letters,  which  will  more  clearly 
illustrate  the  state  and  measure  of  my  experience  at  different 
times,  than  any  thing  I  can  say  at  present.  One  of  them, 
you  will  find,  was  written  at  this  period,  when  I  could  hardly 
hold  a  pen,  and  had  some  reason  to  believe  I  should  write 
no  more.  I  had  not  that  "  full  assurance"  which  is  so  de- 
sirable at  a  time  when  flesh  and  heart  fail ;  but  my  hopes 
were  greater  than  my  fears;  and  I  felt  a  silent  composure  of 
spirit,  which  enabled  me  to  wait  the  event  without  much 
anxiety.  My  trust,  though  weak  in  degree,  was  alone  fixed 
upon  the  blood  and  righteousness  of  Jesus ;  and  those  words, 
"  He  is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost,"  gave  me  great  relief. 
I  was  for  a  while  troubled  with  a  very  singular  thought ; 
whether  it  was  a  temptation,  or  that  the  fever  disordered  my 
faculties,  I  cannot  say;  but  I  seemed  not  so  much  afraid  of 
wrath  and  punishment,  as  of  being  lost  and  overlooked 
amidst  the  myriads  that  are  continually  entering  the  unseen 
world.  What  is  my  soul,  thought  I,  amongst  such  an  innu- 
merable multitude  of  beings?  and  this  troubled  me  greatly. 
Perhaps  the  Lord  will  take  no  notice  of  me.  I  was  per- 
plexed thus  for  some  time  ;  but  at  last  a  text  of  Scripture, 
very  apposite  to  the  case,  occurred  to  my  mind,  and  put  an 
end  to  the  doubt.  "  The  Lord  knoweth  them  that  are  his." 
In  about  ten  days,  beyond  the  hope  of  those  about  me,  I 
began  to  amend  ;  and  by  the  time  of  our  arrival  in  the  West- 
Indies  I  was  perfectly  recovered.  I  hope  this  visitation  was 
made  useful  to  me. 

Thus  far,  that  is,  for  about  the  space  of  six  years,  the  Lord 
was  pleased  to  lead  me  in  a  secret  way.  I  had  learned  some- 
thing of  the  evil  of  my  heart ;  I  had  read  the  Bible  over 
and  over,  with  several  good  books,  and  had  a  general  view 
of  gospel-truths;  but  my  conceptions  were,  in  many  respects, 


69] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


09 


confused,  not  having  in  all  this  time  met  with  one  acquaint- 
ance who  could  assist  my  inquiries.  But  upon  my  arrival 
at  St.  Christopher's,  on  this  voyage,  I  found  a  captain  of  a 
ship  from  London  whose  conversation  was  greatly  helpful 
to  me.  He  was  and  is  a  member  of  Mr.  Brewer's  church, 
a  man  of  experience  in  the  things  of  God,  and  of  a  lively 
communicative  turn.  We  discovered  each  other  by  some 
casual  expressions  in  mixed  company,  and  soon  became,  so 
far  as  business  would  permit,  inseparable.  For  nearly  a 
month  we  spent  every  evening  together  on  board  each 
other's  ship  alternately,  and  often  prolonged  our  visits  till 
toward  day-break.  I  was  all  ear;  and,  what  was  better,  he 
not  only  informed  my  understanding,  but  his  discourse  in- 
flamed my  heart.  He  encouraged  me  to  open  my  mouth  in 
social  prayer;  he  taught  me  the  advantage  of  Christian  con- 
verse ;  he  put  me  upon  an  attempt  to  make  my  profession 
more  public,  and  to  venture  to  speak  for  God.  From  him, 
or  rather  from  the  Lord  by  his  means,  I  received  an  increase 
of  knowledge:  my  conceptions  became  clearer  and  more 
evangelical ;  and  I  was  delivered  from  a  fear  which  had  long 
troubled  me — the  fear  of  relapsing  into  my  former  apostacv. 
But  now  I  began  to  understand  the  security  of  the  covenant 
of  grace,  and  to  expect  to  be  preserved,  not  by  my  own 
power  and  holiness,  but  by  the  mighty  power  and  promise 
of  God,  through  faith  in  an  unchangeable  Savior.  He  like- 
wise gave  me  a  general  view  of  the  state  of  religion,  with 
the  errors  and  controversies  of  the  times,  (things  to  which  I 
had  been  entirely  a  stranger,)  and  finally  directed  me  where 
to  apply  in  London  for. further  instruction.  With  these 
newly-acquired  advantages,  I  left  him,  and  my  passage 
homeward  gave  me  leisure  to  digest  what  I  had  received.  I 
had  much  comfort  and  freedom  during  those  seven  weeks, 
and  my  sun  was  seldom  clouded.  I  arrived  safely  in  Liver- 
pool, August,  1754. 

My  stay  at  home  was  intended  to  be  but  short ;  and  by 
the  beginning  of  November  I  was  again  ready  for  the  sea  ; 
but  the  Lord  saw  fit  to  over-rule  my  design.  During  the 
time  I  was  engaged  in  the  slave-trade,  1  never  had  the  least 
scruple  as  to  its  lawfulness.  I  was,  upon  the  whole,  satisfied 
with  it,  as  the  appointment  Providence  had  marked  out  for 
me;  yet  it  was,  in  many  respects,  far  from  eligible.  It  was, 
Indeed,  accounted  a  genteel  employment,  and  usually  very 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[70 


profitable,  though  to  me  it  did  not  prove  so,  the  Lord  see- 
ing that  a  large  increase  of  wealth  would  not  be  good  for 
me.  However,  I  considered  myself  as  a  sort  of  gaoler  or 
turnkey,  and  I  was  sometimes  shocked  with  an  employment 
that  was  perpetually  conversant  with  chains,  bolts,  and 
shackles.  In  this  view  I  had  often  petitioned,  in  my  prayers, 
that  the  Lord,  in  his  own  time,  would  be  pleased  to  fix  me 
in  a  more  humane  calling,  and,  if  it  might  be,  place  me 
where  I  might  have  more  frequent  converse  with  his  people 
and  ordinances,  and  be  freed  from  those  long  separations 
from  home,  which  very  often  were  hard  to  bear.  My  prayers 
were  now  answered,  though  in  a  way  I  little  expected.  I 
now  experienced  another  sudden,  unforeseen  change  of  life. 
I  was  within  two  days  of  sailing,  and,  to  all  appearance,  in  as 
good  health  as  usual ;  but  in  the  afternoon,  as  I  was  sitting 
with  Mrs.  Newton,  drinking  tea  by  ourselves,  and  talking 
over  past  events,  I  was  in  a  moment  seized  with  a  fit  which 
deprived  me  of  sense  and  motion,  and  left  me  no  other  sign 
of  life  than  that  of  breathing.  I  suppose  it  was  of  the  apo- 
plectic kind.  It  lasted  about  an  hour ;  and  when  I  reco- 
vered, it  left  a  pain  and  dizziness  in  my  head,  which  con- 
tinued, with  such  symptoms  as  induced  the  physicians  to 
judge  it  would  not  be  safe  or  prudent  for  me  to  proceed  on 
the  voyage.  Accordingly,  by  the  advice  of  my  friend  to 
whom  the  ship  belonged,  I  resigned  the  command  the  day 
before  she  sailed ;  and  thus  I  was  unexpectedly  called  from 
that  service,  and  freed  from  a  share  of  the  future  conse- 
quences of  that  voyage,  which  proved  extremely  calamitous. 
The  person  who  went  in  my  room,  most  of  the  officers,  and 
many  of  the  crew  died,  and  the  vessel  was  brought  home 
with  great  difficulty. 

As  I  was  now  disengaged  from  business,  I  left  Liverpool, 
and  spent  most  of  the  following  year  at  London  and  in 
Kent.  But  I  entered  upon  a  new  trial.  You  will  easily 
conceive  that  Mrs.  Newton  was  not  an  unconcerned  specta- 
tor when  I  lay  extended,  and,  as  she  thought,  expiring, 
upon  the  ground.  In  effect,  the  blow  that  struck  me  reached 
her  in  the  same  instant :  she  did  not  indeed  immediately 
feel  it,  till  her  apprehensions  on  my  account  began  to  sub- 
side ;  but  as  I  grew  better,  she  became  worse :  her  surprise 
threw  her  into  a  disorder  which  no  physicians  could  define, 
or  medicines  remove.   Without  any  of  the  ordinary  symp- 


71] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


71 


tonis  of  a  consumption,  she  decayed  almost  visibly,  till  she 
became  so  weak  that  she  could  hardly  bear  any  one  to 
walk  across  the  room  she  was  in.  I  was  placed,  lor  about 
eleven  months,  in  what  Dr.  Young  calls  the 

 dreadful  post  of  observation, 

Darker  every  hour. 

It  was  not  till  after  my  settlement  at  Liverpool  that  the 
Lord  was  pleased  to  restore  her  by  his  own  hand,  when  all 
hopes  from  ordinary  means  were  at  an  end.  But  before 
this  took  place  I  have  some  other  particulars  to  mention, 
which  must  be  the  subject  of  the  following  sheet,  which  I 
hope  will  be  the  last  on  this  subject  from,  &c. 


LETTER  XIV. 

By  the  directions  I  had  received  from  my  friend  at  St. 
Kitt's,  I  soon  found  out  a  religious  acquaintance  in  London. 
I  first  applied  to  Mr.  Brewer,  and  chiefly  attended  upon  his 
ministry  when  in  town.  From  him  I  received  many  helps, 
both  in  public  and  private;  for  he  was  pleased  to  favor  me 
with  his  friendship  from  the  first.  His  kindness  and  the  in- 
timacy between  us  has  continued  and  increased  to  this  day ; 
and  of  all  my  many  friends,  I  am  most  deeply  indebted  to 

him.  The  late  Mr.  II  d  was  my  second  acquaintance,  a 

man  of  a  choice  spirit,  and  an  abundant  zeal  for  the  Lord's 
service.  I  enjoyed  his  correspondence  till  near  the  time  of 
his  death.  Soon  after,  upon  Mr.  Whitefield's  return  from 
America,  my  two  good  friends  introduced  me  to  him  ;  and 
though  I  had  little  personal  acquaintance  with  him  till  after- 
ward, his  ministry  was  exceedingly  useful  to  me.  I  had  like- 
wise access  to  some  religious  societies,  and  became  known 
to  many  excellent  Christians  in  private  life.  Thus,  when  at 
London,  I  lived  at  the  fountain-head,  as  it  were,  for  spiri- 
tual advantages.  When  I  was  in  Kent  it  was  very  different ; 
yet  I  found  some  serious  persons  there  ;  but  the  fine  varie- 
gated woodland  country  afforded  me  advantages  of  another 
kind.  Most  of  my  time,  at  least  some  hours  every  day,  I 
passed  in  retirement,  when  the  weather  was  fair;  sometimes 
in  the  thickest  woods,  sometimes  on  the  highest  hills,  where 
almost  everv  step  varied  the  prospect.  It  has  been  my  cus- 


72.  LIFE   OP  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON.  [72 

torn,  for  many  years,  to  perform  my  devotional  exercises 
sub  die,  when  I  have  opportunity  ;  and  I  always  find  these 
rural  scenes  have  some  tendency  hoth  to  refresh  and  to 
compose  my  spirits.  A  beautiful  diversified  prospect  glad- 
dens my  heart.  When  I  am  withdrawn  from  the  noise  and 
petty  works  of  men,  I  consider  myself  as  in  the  great  tem- 
ple which  the  Lord  has  built  for  his  own  honor. 

The  country  between  Rochester  and  Maidstone,  border- 
ing upon  the  Medway,  was  well  suited  to  the  turn  of  my 
mind ;  and  were  I  to  go  over  it  now,  I  could  point  to  many 
a  place  where  I  remember  to  have  either  earnestly  sought, 
or  happily  found,  the  Lord's  comfortable  presence  with  my 
soul.  And  thus  I  lived,  sometimes  at  London,  and  some- 
times in  the  country,  till  the  autumn  of  the  following  year. 
All  this  while  I  had  two  trials  more  or  less  upon  my  mind : 
the  first  and  principal  was  Mrs.  Newton's  illness ;  she  still 
grew  worse,  and  I  had  daily  more  reason  to  fear  that  the 
hour  of  separation  was  at  hand.  When  faith  was  in  exer- 
cise, I  was  in  some  measure  resigned  to  the  Lord's  will ; 
but  too  often  my  heart  rebelled,  and  I  found  it  hard  either 
to  trust  or  to  submit.  I  had  likewise  some  care  about  my 
future  settlement ;  the  African  trade  was  overdone  that  year, 
and  my  friends  did  not  care  to  fit  out  another  ship  till  mine 
returned.  I  was  sometime  in  suspense  ;  but  indeed  a  provi- 
sion of  food  and  raiment  has  seldom  been  a  cause  of  great 
solicitude  to  me.  I  found  it  easier  to  trust  the  Lord  in  this 
point  than  in  the  former ;  and  accordingly  this  was  first  an- 
swered. In  August  I  received  notice  that  I  was  nominated 
to  the  office  of  tide-surveyor.  These  places  are  usually  ob- 
tained, or  at  least  sought,  by  dint  of  much  interest  and  ap- 
plication ;  but  this  came  to  me  unsought  and  unexpected.  I 
knew,  indeed,  my  good  friends  in  Liverpool  had  endea- 
vored to  procure  another  post  for  me,  but  found  it  pre- 
engaged.  I  found,  afterward,  that  the  place  I  had  missed 
would  have  been  very  unsuitable  for  me ;  and  that  this, 
which  I  had  no  thought  of,  was  the  very  thing  I  could  have 
wished  for,  as  it  afforded  me  much  leisure,  and  the  liberty 
of  living  in  my  own  way.  Several  circumstances,  unnoticed 
by  others,  concurred  to  show  me  that  the  good  hand  of  the 
Lord  was  as  remarkably  concerned  in  this  event,  as  in  any 
other  leading  turn  of  my  life. 

But  when  I  gained  this  point,  my  distress  in  the  other 


73] 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


73 


was  doubled ;  I  was  obliged  to  leave  Mrs.  Newton  in  the 
greatest  extremity  of  pain  and  illness,  when  the  physicians 
could  do  no  more,  and  1  had  no  ground  of  hope  that  I  should 
see  her  again  alive,  hut  this — that  nothing  is  impossible  with 
the  Lord.  I  had  a  severe  conflict ;  but  faith  prevailed  :  I 
found  the  promise  remarkably  fulfilled,  of  strength  propor- 
tioned to  my  need.  The  day  before  I  set  out,  and  not  till 
then,  the  burden  was  entirely  taken  from  my  mind;  I  was 
strengthened  to  resign  both  her  and  myself  to  the  Lord's 
disposal,  and  departed  from  her  in  a  cheerful  frame.  Soon 
after  I  was  gone  she  began  to  amend,  and  recovered  so  fast, 
that  in  about  two  months  I  had  the  pleasure  to  meet  her  at 
Stone,  on  her  journey  to  Liverpool. 

And  now  I  think  1  have  answered,  if  not  exceeded  your 
desire.  Since  October,  1755,  we  have  been  comfortably 
settled  at  Liverpool:  and  all  my  circumstances  have  been 
as  remarkably  smooth  and  uniform,  as  they  were  various 
in  former  years.  My  trials  have  been  light  and  few;  not 
but  that  I  still  find,  in  the  experience  of  every  day,  the  ne- 
cessity of  a  life  of  faith.  My  principal  trial  is,  the  body  of  sin 
and  death,  which  makes  me  often  to  sigh  out  the  apostle's 
complaint,  "  O  wretched  man !"  but  with  him  likewise  I 
can  say,  "  I  thank  God  through  Jesus  Christ  my  Lord." 
-I  live  in  a  barren  land,  where  the  knowledge  and  power  of 
the  Gospel  is  very  low ;  yet  here  are  a  few  of  the  Lord's 
people  ;  and  this  wilderness  has  been  a  useful  school  to  me  ; 
where  I  have  studied  more  leisurely  the  truths  I  gathered 
up  in  London.  I  brought  down  with  me  a  considerable  stock 
of  notional  truth ;  but  I  have  since  found  that  there  is  no 
effectual  teacher  but  God  ;  that  we  can  receive  no  farther 
than  he  is  pleased  to  communicate ;  and  that  no  knowledge 
is  truly  useful  to  me  but  what  is  made  my  own  by  expe- 
rience. Many  things  I  thought  I  had  learned,  would  not  stand 
in  an  hour  of  temptation,  till  I  had  in  this  way  learned  them 
over  again.  Since  the  year  1757,  I  have  had  an  increasing 
acquaintance  in  the  West-riding  of  Yorkshire,  where  the 
Gospel  flourishes  greatly.  This  has  been  a  good  school  to 
me :  I  have  conversed  at  large  among  all  parties,  without 
joining  any ;  and  in  my  attempts  to  hit  the  golden  mean,  I 
have  sometimes  been  drawn  too  near  the  different  extremes; 
yet  the  Lord  has  enabled  me  to  profit  by  my  mistakes.  In 
brief,  I  am  still  a  learner,  and  the  Lord  still  condescends  to 

4 


74 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[74 


teach  mo.  I  begin  at  lengtli  to  see  that  I  have  attained  but 
very  little ;  but  I  trust  in  him  to  carry  on  his  ow  n  work  in 
my  soul,  and,  by  all  the  dispensations  of  his  grace  and  pro- 
vidence, to  increase  my  knowledge  of  him  and  of  myself. 

When  I  was  fixed  in  a  house,  and  found  my  business 
would  afford  me  much  leisure  time,  I  considered  in  what 
manner  I  should  improve  it.  And  now,  having  reason  to 
close  with  the  Apostle's  determination,  "  to  know  nothing 
but  Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified,"  I  devoted  my  life  to 
the  prosecution  of  spiritual  knowledge,  and  resolved  to 
pursue  nothing  but  in  subservience  to  this  main  design. 
This  resolution  divorced  me  (as  I  have  already  hinted)  from 
the  classics  and  mathematics.  My  first  attempt  was  to  learn 
so  much  Greek  as  would  enable  me  to  understand  the  New 
Testament  and  Septuagint :  and  when  I  had  made  some 
progress  this  way,  I  entered  upon  the  Hebrew  the  follow- 
ing year;  and  two  years  afterward,  having  surmised  some 
advantages  from  the  Syriac  version,  I  began  with  that  lan- 
guage. You  must  not  think  that  I  have  attained,  or  ever 
aimed  at,  a  critical  skill  in  any  of  these :  I  had  no  business 
with  them,  but  as  in  reference  to  something  else.  I  never 
read  one  classic  author  in  the  Greek ;  I  thought  it  too  late 
in  life  to  take  such  a  round  in  this  language  as  I  had  done 
in  the  Latin.  I  only  wanted  the  signification  of  scriptural 
words  and  phrases  ;  and  for  this  I  thought  I  might  avail  my- 
self of  Scapula  the  Synopsis,  and  others,  who  had  sustained 
the  drudgery  before  me.  In  the  Hebrew  I  can  read  the  his- 
torical books  and  psalms  with  tolerable  ease  ;  but  in  the 
prophetical  and  difficult  parts,  I  am  frequently  obliged  to 
have  recourse  to  lexicons,  &c.  However,  I  know  so  much 
as  to  be  able,  with  such  helps  as  are  at  hand,  to  judge  for  my- 
self the  meaning  of  any  passage  I  have  occasion  to  consult. 
Beyond  this  I  do  not  think  of  proceeding,  if  I  can  find  bet- 
ter employment ;  for  I  would  rather  be  some  way  useful  to 
others,  than  die  with  the  reputation  of  an  eminent  linguist. 

Together  with  these  studies,  1  have  kept  up  a  course  of 
reading  of  the  best  writers  in  divinity  that  have  come  to  my 
hand,  in  the  Latin  and  English  tongues,  and  some  French, 
(for  I  picked  up  the  French  at  times  while  I  used  the  sea.) 
But  within  these  two  or  three  years  I  have  accustomed  my- 
self chiefly  to  writing,  and  have  not  found  time  to  read 
many  books  beside  the  Scriptures. 


75] 


LIFE  OF  UEV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


75 


I  am  the  more  particular  in  this  account,  as  my  case  has 
been  something  singular  ;  for  in  all  my  literary  attempts  I 
have  been  obliged  to  strike  out  my  own  path,  by  the  light  I 
could  acquire  from  books,  as  I  have  not  had  a  teacher  or 
assistant  since  I  was  ten  years  of  age. 

One  word  concerning  my  views  to  the  ministry,  and  I 
have  done.  1  have  told  you  that  this  was  my  dear  mother's 
hope  concerning  me  ;  but  her  death,  and  the  scenes  of  life 
in  which  I  afterward  engaged,  seemed  to  cut  off  the  proba- 
bility. The  first  desires  of  this  sort  in  my  own  mind  arose 
many  years  ago,  from  a  reflection  on  Gal.  1  :  23,  24,  "  But 
they  iiad  heard  only,  that  he  which  persecuted  us  in  times 
past,  now  preached  the  faith  which  once  he  destroyed.  And 
they  glorified  God  in  me."  1  could  not  but  wish  for  such  a 
public  opportunity  to  testify  the  riches  of  divine  grace.  I 
thought  I  was,  above  most  living,  a  fit  person  to  proclaim 
that  faithful  saying,  "  That  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world 
to  save  the  chief  of  sinners ;"  and  as  my  life  had  been  full 
of  remarkable  turns,  and  I  seemed  selected  to  show  what 
the  Lord  could  do,  I  was  in  some  hopes  that  perhaps, 
sooner  or  later,  he  might  call  me  into  his  service. 

I  believe  it  was  a  distant  hope  of  this  that  determined  me 
to  study  the  original  Scriptures  ;  but  it  remained  an  imper- 
fect desire  in  my  own  breast,  till  it  was  recommended  to  me 
by  some  Christian  friends.  I  started  at  the  thought  when 
first  seriously  proposed  to  me;  but  afterward  set  apart  some 
weeks  to  consider  the  case,  to  consult  my  friends,  and  to 
entreat  the  Lord's  direction.  The  judgment  of  my  friends, 
and  many  things  that  occurred,  tended  to  engage  me.  My 
first  thought  was  to  join  the  Dissenters,  from  a  presumption 
that  I  could  not  honestly  make  the  required  subscriptions: 
but  Mr.  C  ,  in  a  conversation  upon  these  points,  mo- 
derated my  scruples;  and  preferring  the  Established  Church 
in  some  other  respects,  I  accepted  a  title  from  him  some 
months  afterward,  and  solicited  ordination  from  the  late 
Archbishop  of  York.  I  need  not  tell  you  I  met  a  refusal, 
nor  what  steps  I  took  afterward  to  succeed  elsewhere.  At 
present  (1763)  I  desist  from  my  applications.  My  desire  to 
serve  the  Lord  is  not  weakened  ;  but  I  am  not  so  hasty  to 
push  myself  forward  as  I  was  formerly.  It  is  sufficient  that 
he  knows  how  to  dispose  of  me,  and  that  he  both  can  and 
will  do  what  is  best.    To  him  I  commend  myself ;  I  trust 


76 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[76 


that  his  will  and  my  true  interest  are  inseparable.  To  his 
name  be  glory  for  ever.  And  thus  I  conclude  my  story, 
and  presume  you  will  acknowledge  I  have  been  particular 
enough. 

SUBSEQUENT  PARTICULARS. 

We  skall  noiv  present  ovr  readers  with  a  further  account  of  .Mr.  New- 
to7i's  life,  abridged  from  the  work  of  the  Rev.  R.  Cecil. 

Mr.  Manesty,  who  had  long  been  a  faithful  and  generous 
friend  of  Mr.  Newton,  procured  him  the  place  of  tide-sur- 
veyor in  the  port  of  Liverpool.  Mr.  N.  gives  the  following 
account  of  it: — "  I  entered  upon  business  yesterday.  I  find 
my  duty  is  to  attend  the  tides  one  week,  and  visit  the  ships 
that  arrive,  and  such  as  are  in  the  river  ;  and  the  other  week 
to  inspect  the  vessels  in  the  docks  ;  and  thus  alternately  the 
year  round.  The  latter  is  little  more  than  a  sinecure,  but 
the  former  requires  pretty  constant  attendance,  both  by  day 
and  night.  I  have  a  good  office,  with  fire  and  candle,  and 
fifty  or  sixty  people  under  my  direction  ;  with  a  handsome 
six-oared  boat  and  a  cockswain  to  row  me  about  in  form." 
Letters  to  a  Wife,  vol.  ii.  p.  7. 

"We  cannot  wonder  that  Mr.  N.  latterly  retained  a  strong 
impression  of  a  particular  providence  superintending  and 
conducting  the  steps  of  man,  since  he  was  so  often  re- 
minded of  it  in  his  own  history.  The  following  occurrence 
is  one  of  many  instances.  Mr.  N.,  after  his  reformation, 
was  remarkable  for  his  punctuality ;  I  remember  his  often 
sitting  with  his  watch  in  his  hand,  lest  he  should  fail  in  keep- 
ing his  next  engagement.  This  exactness  with  respect  to 
time,  it  seems,  was  his  habit  while  occupying  his  post  at 
Liverpool.  One  day,  however,  some  business  had  so  de- 
tained him  that  he  came  to  his  boat  much  later  than  usual, 
to  the  surprise  of  those  who  had  observed  his  former  punc- 
tuality. He  went  out  in  the  boat  as  heretofore  to  inspect  a 
ship,  but  the  ship  blew  up  just  before  he  reached  her ;  it 
appears,  that  if  he  had  left  the  shore  a  few  minutes  sooner, 
he  must  have  perished  with  the  rest  on  board. 

This  anecdote  I  had  from  a  clergyman,  upon  whose  word 
[  can  depend,  who  had  been  long  on  intimate  terms  with 
Mr.  N.,  and  who  had  it  from  Mr.  N.  himself;  the  reason  of 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


77 


its  not  appearing  in  his  letters  from  Liverpool  to  Mrs.  N.,  I 
can  only  suppose  to  be,  his  fearing  to  alarm  her  with 
respect  to  the  dangers  of  his  station.  But  another  provi- 
dential occurrence,  which  he  mentions  in  those  letters,  I 
shall  transcribe. 

"  When  I  think  of  my  settlement  here,  and  the  manner 
of  it,  I  see  the  appointment  of  Providence  so  good  and  gra- 
cious, and  such  a  plain  answer  to  my  poor  prayers,  that  I 
cannot  but  wonder  and  adore.    I  think  I  have  not  yet  told 

you,  that  my  immediate  predecessor  in  oflice,  Mr.  C  , 

had  not  the  least  intention  of  resigning  his  place  on  the  oc- 
casion of  his  father's  death ;  though  such  a  report  was  spread 
about  the  town  without  his  knowledge,  or  rather  in  defiance 
of  all  he  could  say  to  contradict  it.  Yet  to  this  false  report 
I  owe  my  situation.  For  it  put  Mr,  M  upon  an  appli- 
cation to  Mr.  S  ,  the  member  for  the  town;  and  the 

very  day  he  received  the  promise  in  my  favor,  Mr.  C  

was  found  dead  in  his  bed,  though  he  had  been  in  company, 
and  in  perfect  health,  the  night  before.  If  I  mistake  not, 
the  same  messenger  who  brought  the  promise  carried  back 

the  news  of  the  vacancy  to  Mr.  S  ,  at  Chester.  About 

an  hour  after,  the  mayor  applied  for  a  nephew  of  his ;  but, 
though  it  was  only  an  hour  or  two,  he  was  too  late.  Mr. 

S  had  already  written,  and  sent  ofi'the  letter,  and  I  was 

appointed  accordingly.  These  circumstances  appear  to  me 
extraordinary,  though  of  a  piece  with  many  other  parts  of 
my  singular  history.  And  the  more  so,  as  by  another  mis- 
take I  missed  the  land-waiter's  place,  which  was  my  first 
object,  and  which  I  now  see  would  not  have  suited  us  nearly 
so  well.  I  thank  God  I  can  now  look  through  instruments 
and  second  causes,  and  see  his  wisdom  and  goodness  imme- 
diately concerned  in  fixing  my  lot." 

Mr.  N.  having  expressed,  near  the  end  of  his  narrative, 
the  motives  which  induced  him  to  aim  at  a  regular  appoint- 
ment to  the  ministry  in  the  Church  of  England,  and  the  re- 
fusal he  met  with  in  his  first  making  the  attempt,  the  reader 
is  farther  informed  that,  on  Dec.  16, 1758,  Mr.  N.  received 

a  title  to  a  curacy  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  C  ,  and  applied 

to  the  Archbishop  of  York,  Dr.  Gilbert,  for  ordination.  The 
Bishop  of  Chester  having  countersigned  his  testimonials,  di- 
rected him  to  Dr.  Newton,  the  archbishop's  chaplain.  He 
was  referred  to  the  secretary,  and  received  the  softest  refu- 


78 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  SEWTOX. 


[78 


sal  imaginable.  The  secretary  informed  him  that  he  had 
•'  represented  the  matter  to  the  archbishop,  but  his  Grace 
was  inflexible  in  supporting  the  rules  and  canons  of  the 
Church,"  &c. 

Travelling  to  Loughborough,  Mr.  N.  stopped  at  Wehvyn, 
and  sending  a  note  to  the  celebrated  Dr.  Young,  he  received 
for  answer,  that  the  doctor  would  be  glad  to  see  him.  He 
found  the  doctor's  conversation  agreeable,  and  to  answer 
his  expectation  respecting  the  author  of  the  Night  Thoughts. 
The  doctor  likewise  seemed  pleased  with  Mr.  N.  He  ap- 
proved Mr.  N's  design  of  entering  the  ministry,  and  said 
many  encouraging  things  upon  the  subject;  and  when  he 
dismissed  Mr.  N.,  desired  him  never  to  pass  near  Welwyn 
without  calling  upon  him. 

Mr.  N.,  it  seems,  had  made  some  small  attempts  at  Liver- 
pool, in  a  way  of  preaching  or  expounding.  Many  wished 
him  to  engage  more  at  large  in  those  ministerial  employ- 
ments, to  which  his  own  mind  was  inclined;  and  he  thus 
expresses  his  motives  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  N.,  in  answer  to 
the  objections  she  had  formed.  "  The  death  of  the  late  Rev. 
Mr.  Jones,  of  St.  Savior's,  has  pressed  this  concern  more 
closely  upon  my  mind.  I  fear  it  must  be  wrong,  after  having 
so  solemnly  devoted  myself  to  the  Lord  for  his  service,  to 
wear  away  my  time,  and  bury  my  talents  in  silence,  (because 
1  have  been  refused  orders  in  the  Established  Church,) 
after  all  the  great  things  he  has  done  for  me.:' 

In  a  note  annexed,  he  observes,  that  "  the  influence  of 
bis  judicious  and  affectionate  counsellor  moderated  the  zeal 
which  dictated  this  letter,  written  in  the  year  1762 ;  that 
had  it  not  been  for  her,  he  should  probably  have  been  pre- 
cluded from  those  important  scenes  of  service  to  which  he 
was  afterward  appointed  :"  but,  he  adds,  "  The  exercises  of 
my  mind  upon  this  point,  I  believe,  have  not  been  peculiar 
to  myself.  1  have  known  several  persons,  sensible,  pious, 
of  competent  abilities,  and  cordially  attached  to  the  esta- 
blished church;  who,  being  wearied  out  with  repeated  re- 
fusals of  ordination,  and,  perhaps,  not  having  the  advantage 
of  such  an  adviser  as  I  had,  have  at  length  struck  into  the 
itinerant  path,  or  settled  among  the  dissenters.  Some  of 
lhese,  yet  living,  are  men  of  respectable  characters,  and 
useful  in  their  ministry." 

In  the  year  1764  Mr.  N.  had  the  curacy  of  Olney  pro- 


79]  LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON.  79 

posed  to  him,  and  was  recommended  by  Lord  Dartmouth  to 
Dr.  Green,  bishop  of  Lincoln ;  of  whose  candor  and  ten- 
derness he  speaks  with  much  respect.  The  bishop  admitted 
him  as  a  candidate  for  orders.  "  The  examination,"  says 
he,  "  lasted  about  an  hour,  chiefly  upon  the  principal  heads 
of  divinity  As  I  resolved  not  to  be  charged  hereafter  with 
dissimulation,  I  was  constrained  to  differ  from  his  lordship 
in  some  points  ;  but  he  was  not  offended:  he  declared  him- 
self satisfied,  and  has  promised  to  ordain  me  either  next 
Sunday,  in  town,  or  the  Sunday  following,  at  Buckden.  Let 
us  praise  the  Lord." 

Mr.  N.  was  ordained  deacon  at  Buckden,  April  29,  17C4, 
and  priest  in  June,  the  following  year.  In  the  parish  of  01- 
ney  he  found  many  who  not  only  had  evangelical  views  of 
the  truth,  but  had  also  long  walked  in  the  light  and  expe- 
rience of  it.  The  vicarage  was  in  the  gift  of  the  Earl  of 
Dartmouth,  the  nobleman  to  whom  Mr.  N.  addressed  the 
first  twenty-six  letters  in  his  Cardiphonia.  The  earl  was  a 
man  of  real  piety  and  most  amiable  disposition ;  he  had 
formerly  appointed  the  Rev.  Moses  Brown,  vicar  of  Olney. 
Mr.  Brown  was  an  evangelical  minister,  and  a  good  man; 
he  had  afforded  wholesome  instruction  to  the  parishioners 
of  Olney,  and  had  been  the  instrument  of  a  sound  con- 
version in  many  of  them.  He  was  the  author  of  a  poem, 
entitled  Sunday  Thoughts;  a  translation  of  Professor 
Zimmermann's  Excellency  of  the  Knowledge  of  Jesus 
Christ,  &c. 

But  Mr.  Brown  had  a  numerous  family,  and  met  with 
considerable  trials  in  it ;  he  too  much  resembled  Eli  in  his 
indulgence  of  his  children.  He  was  also  under  the  pressure 
of  difficulties,  and  had  therefore  accepted  the  chaplaincy  of 
Morden  College,  Blackheath,  while  vicar  of  Olney.  Mr.  N. 
undertook  the  curacy  of  Olney,  in  which  he  continued  nearly 
sixteen  years,  previous  to  his  removal  to  St.  Mary  Wool- 
noth,  to  which  he  was  afterward  presented  by  the  late 
John  Thornton,  Esq. 

Mr.  N.  was  under  the  greatest  obligations  to  Mr.  Thorn- 
ton's friendship  while  at  Olney,  and  was  enabled  to  extend 
his  own  usefulness  by  the  bounty  of  that  extraordinary  man. 
To  this  common  patron  of  every  useful  and  pious  endeavor 
Mr.  N.  had  sent  his  Narrative,  and  Mr.  Thornton  replied 
in  his  usual  manner,  that  is,  by  accompanying  his  letter  with 


so 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[80 


a  valuable  bank  note ;  and,  some  months  after  he  paid  Mr.  N. 
a  visit  at  Olney.  A  closer  connexion  being  now  formed 
between  friends  who  employed  their  distinct  talents  in  pro- 
moting the  same  benevolent  cause,  Mr.  Thornton  left  a  sum 
of  money  with  Mr.  N.,  to  be  appropriated  to  the  defraying 
his  necessary  expenses  and  relieving  the  poor.  "  Be  hos- 
pitable," said  Mr.  Thornton,  "  and  keep  an  open  bouse  for 
such  as  are  worth}'  of  entertainment :  help  the  poor  and 
needy  :  1  will  statedly  allow  you  £200  a  year,  and  readily 
send  whatever  you  have  occasion  to  draw  for  more."  Mr.  N. 
told  me  that  he  thought  he  had  received  of  Mr.  Thornton 
upward  of  £3000  in  this  way  during  the  time  he  resided 
at  Olney. 

The  case  of  most  ministers  is  peculiar  in  this  respect ; 
some  among  them  ma)'  be  looked  up  to  on  account  of  their 
publicity  and  talents  ;  they  may  have  made  great  sacrifices 
of  their  personal  interest,  in  order  to  enter  on  their  minis- 
try, and  may  be  possessed  of  the  strongest  benevolence  ;  but 
from  the  narrowness  of  their  pecuniary  circumstances,  and 
from  the  largeness  of  their  families,  they  often  perceive  that 
;:n  ordinary  tradesman  in  their  parishes  can  subscribe  to  a 
charitable  or  popular  institution  much  more  liberally  than 
themselves.  This  would  have  been  Mr.  N's  case,  but  for 
the  above-mentioned  singular  patronage. 

A  minister,  however,  should  not  be  so  forgetful  of  his 
dispensation  as  to  repine  at  his  want  of  power  in  this  re- 
spect. He  might  as  justly  estimate  his  deficiency  by  the 
strength  of  a  lion,  or  the  flight  of  the  eagle.  The  power 
communicated  to  him  is  of  another  kind;  and  power  of  every 
kind  belongs  to  God,  who  gives  gifts  to  every  man  severally 
as  he  will.  The  two  mites  of  the  widow  were  all  the  power 
of  that  kind  which  was  communicated  to  her,  and  her  be- 
stowment  of  her  two  mites  was  better  accepted  than  the 
birge  offerings  of  the  rich  man.  The  powers,  therefore,  of 
Mr.  Thornton,  and  of  Mr.  N.,  though  of  a  different  order, 
were  both  consecrated  to  God ;  and  each  might  have  said, 
"  Of  thine  own  have  we  given  thee." 

Providence  seems  to  have  appointed  Mr.  N's  residence 
at  Olney,  among  other  reasons,  for  the  relief  of  the  de- 
pressed mind  of  the  poet  Cowper. 

Of  great  importance  also  was  the  vicinity  of  Mr.  N's  re- 
sidence to  the  Rev.  Thomas  Scott,  then  curate  of  Raven- 


81] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


stone  and  Weston  Underwood,  a  man  whose  ministry  and 
writings  have  since  been  so  useful  to  mankind. 

In  the  year  1776  Mr.  N.  was  afflicted  with  a  tumour,  or 
wen,  which  had  formed  on  his  thigh  ;  and,  on  account  of  its 
growing  more  large  and  troublesome,  he  resolved  to  un- 
dergo the  experiment  of  extirpation.  This  obliged  him  to 
go  to  London  for  the  operation,  which  was  successfully  per- 
formed, October  10,  by  the  late  Mr.  Warner,  of  Guy's  Hos- 
pital. I  remember  hearing  him  speak  several  years  after- 
ward of  this  trying  occasion ;  but  the  trial  did  not  seem  to 
have  affected  him  as  a  painful  operation,  so  much  as  a  cri- 
tical opportunity  in  which  he  might  fail  in  demonstrating 
the  patience  of  a  Christian  under  pain.  "  I  felt,"  said  he, 
"  that  being  enabled  to  bear  a  very  sharp  operation  with 
tolerable  calmness  and  confidence,  was  a  greater  favor 
granted  to  me  than  the  deliverance  from  my  malady."* 

While  Mr.  N.  thus  continued  faithfully  discharging  the 
duties  of  his  station,  and  watching  for  the  temporal  and  eter- 
nal welfare  of  his  flock,  a  dreadful  fire  broke  out  at  Olney, 
October,  1777.  Mr.  N.  took  an  active  part  in  comforting 
and  relieving  the  sufferers :  he  collected  upward  of  £200 
for  them ;  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  when  the  poverty 
and  late  calamity  of  the  place  are  regarded.  Such  instances 
of  benevolence  toward  the  people,  with  the  constant  assist- 
ance he  afforded  the  poor,  by  the  help  of  Mr.  Thornton, 
naturally  led  him  to  expect  that  he  should  have  so  much  in- 
fluence as  to  restrain  gross  licentiousness  on  particular  oc- 
casions. But  to  use  his  own  expression,  he  had  "  lived  to 
bury  the  old  crop,  on  which  any  dependance  could  be 

*  His  reflections  upon  the  occasion,  in  his  diary,  are  as  follow: — 
:  Thou  didst  support  me,  and  make  this  operation  very  tolerable. 
The  cure,  by  thy  blessing,  was  happily  expedited ;  so  that  on  Sunday, 

the  27th,  I  was  enabled  to  go  to  church  and  hear  Mr.  F  ,  and  tlie 

following  Sunday  to  preach  for  him.  The  tenderness  and  attention 
of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  F  ,  with  whom  we  were,  I  cannot  sufficiently  de- 
scribe: nor,  indeed,  the  kindness  of  many  other  friends.  To  them  I 
would  be  thankful,  my  Lord,  but  especially  to  thee;  for  what  are 
creatures  but  instruments  in  thy  hand,  fulfilling  thy  pleasure  ?  At 
borne  all  was  preserved  quiet,  and  I  met  with  no  incident  to  distress 
or  disturb  me  while  absent.  The  last  fortnight  I  preached  often,  and 
was  hurried  about  in  seeing  my  friends.  But  though  I  had  little  leisure 
or  opportunity  for  retirement,  and  my  heart,  alas !  as  usual,  was  sadly 
reluctantjind  dull  in  secret,  yet,  in  public  thou  wert  pleased  to  favor 
ine  with  liberty." 


82 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[82 


placed."  He  preached  a  weekly  lecture,  which  occurred 
that  year  on  the  5th  of  November ;  and,  as  he  feared  that 
the  usual  way  of  celebrating  it  at  Olney  might  endanger  his 
hearers  in  their  attendance  at  the  church,  he  exerted  him- 
self to  preserve  some  degree  of  quiet  on  that  evening.  In- 
stead, however,  of  hearkening  to  his  entreaties,  the  looser 
sort  exceeded  their  former  extravagance,  drunkenness,  and 
rioting,  and  even  obliged  him  to  send  out  money,  to  pre- 
serve his  house  from  violence.  This  happened  but  a  year 
before  he  finally  left  Olney.  When  he  related  this  occur- 
rence to  me,  he  added,  that  he  believed  he  should  never 
have  left  the  place  while  he  lived,  had  not  so  incorrigible  a 
spirit  prevailed  in  a  parish  he  had  long  labored  to  reform. 

But  I  must  remark  here,  that  this  is  no  solitary  fact  nor 
at  all  unaccountable.  The  Gospel,  we  are  informed,  is  not 
merely  "  a  savor  of  life  unto  life,"  but  also  "  of  death  unto 
death."  Those  whom  it  does  not  soften  it  is  often  found 
to  harden.  Thus  we  find  St.  Paul  "  went  into  the  syna- 
gogue and  spake  boldly  for  the  space  of  three  months,  dis- 
puting and  persuading  the  things  concerning  the  kingdom 
of  God.  But  when  divers  were  hardened,  and  believed  not, 
but  spake  evil  of  that  way  before  the  multitude,  he  departed 
from  them." 

"  The  strong  man  armed"  seeks  to  keep  his  "  house  and 
goods  in  peace,"  and,  if  a  minister  is  disposed  to  let  this 
sleep  of  death  remain,  that  minister's  own  house  and  goods 
may  be  permitted  to  remain  in  peace  also.  Such  a  minister 
may  be  esteemed  by  his  parish  as  a  good  kind  of  man — 
quiet,  inoffensive,  candid,  &x. ;  and  if  he  discovers  any  zeal, 
it  is  directed  to  keep  the  parish  in  the  state  he  found  it ; 
that  is,  in  ignorance  and  unbelief,  worldly-minded,  and 
hard-hearted ;  the  very  state  of  peace  in  which  the  strong 
man  armed  seeks  to  keep  his  palace  or  citadel,  the  human 
heart. 

But  if  a  minister,  like  the  subject  of  these  Memoirs,  en- 
ters into  the  design  of  his  commission — if  he  be  alive  to  the 
interest  of  his  own  soul,  and  that  of  the  souls  committed  to 
his  charge  ;  or,  as  the  apostle  expresses  it,  "  to  save  himself, 
and  those  that  hear  him,"  he  may  depend  upon  meeting,  in 
his  own  experience,  the  truth  of  that  declaration,  "  Yea,  all 
that  will  live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus  shall  suffer  persecution" 
in  one  form  of  it  or  another.   One  of  the  most  melancholy 


83] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


83 


sights  wc  heboid  is  when  professed  Christians,  tlirough  pre- 
judice, join  the  world  in  throwing  the  stone.  There  is, 
however,  such  a  determined  enmity  to  godliness  itself,  in 
the  breast  of  a  certain  class  of  men  existing  in  most  parishes, 
that,  whatever  learning  and  good  sense  is  found  in  their 
teacher — whatever  consistency  of  character,  or  blameless 
deportment  he  exhibits ;  whatever  benevolence  or  bounty 
(like  that  which  Mr.  N.  exercised  at  Olney)  may  constantly 
appear  in  his  character ;  such  men  remain  irreconcilable. 
They  will  resist  every  attempt  made  to  appease  their  enmity. 
God  alone,  who  changed  the  hearts  of  Paul  and  Newton,  can 
heal  these  bitter  waters. 

I  recollect  to  have  heard  Mr.  N.  say  on  such  an  occasion, 
"  When  God  is  about  to  perform  any  great  work,  he  gene- 
rally permits  some  great  opposition  to  it.  Suppose  Pharaoh 
had  acquiesced  in  the  departure  of  the  children  of  Israel,  or 
that  they  had  met  with  no  difficulties  in  the  way,  they  would, 
indeed,  have  passed  from  Egypt  to  Canaan  with  ease ;  but 
they,  as  well  as  the  church  in  all  future  ages,  would  have 
been  great  losers.  The  wonder-working  God  would  not 
have  been  seen  in  those  extremities  which  make  his  arm 
so  visible.  A  smooth  passage  here  would  have  made  but  a 
poor  story." 

But  under  such  disorders,  Mr.  N.,  in  no  one  instance  that 
I  ever  heard  of,  was  tempted  to  depart  from  the  line  marked 
out  by  the  precept  and  example  of  his  Master.  He  con- 
tinued to  "  bless  them  that  persecuted  him,"  knowing  that 
"  the  servant  of  the  Lord  must  not  strive,  but  be  gentle  unto 
all  men,  apt  to  teach,  patient."  To  the  last  day  he  spent 
among  them  he  went  straight  fonord,  "  in  meekness  in- 
structing those  that  opposed,  if  God  peradventure  might 
give  them  repentance  to  the  acknowledging  the  truth." 

But,  before  we  take  a  final  leave  of  Olney,  the  reader 
must  be  informed  of  another  part  of  Mr.  N's  labors.  He 
had  published  a  volume  of  Sermons  before  he  took  orders, 
dated  Liverpool,  January  1,  1760.  In  1762,  he  published 
his  Omicron,  to  which  his  letters,  signed  Vigil,  were  after- 
ward annexed.  In  1764,  appeared  his  narrative.  In  1767, 
a  volume  of  Sermons,  preached  at  Olney.  In  1769,  his 
Review  of  Ecclesiastical  History;  and,  in  1770,  a  volume 
of  Hymns,  of  which  some  were  composed  by  Mr.  Cowper, 
and  distinguished  by  the  letter  C.  prefixed  to  them.  To 


84 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[84 


these  succeeded,  in  1781,  his  valuable  work,  Cardiphonia. 

From  Olney  Mr.  N.  was  removed  to  the  rectory  of  the 
united  parishes  of  St.  Mary  Woolnoth  and  St.  Mary  Wool- 
church  Haw,  Lombard-street,  on  the  presentation  of  his 
friend,  Mr.  Thornton. 

Some  difficulty  arose  on  Mr.  N's  being  presented,  from 
Mr.  Thornton's  right  of  presentation  being  claimed  by  a 
nobleman ;  the  question  was,  therefore,  at  length  brought 
before  the  House  of  Lords,  and  determined  in  favor  of 
Mr.  Thornton.  Mr.  N.  preached  his  first  sermon  in  these 
parishes,  December  19,  17T9,  from  Eph.  4  :  15,  "  Speaking 
t lie  truth  in  love."  It  contained  an  affectionate  address  to 
his  parishioners,  and  was  directly  published  for  their  use. 

Here  a  new  and  very  distinct  scene  of  action  and  useful- 
ness was  set  before  him.  Placed  in  the  centre  of  London, 
in  an  opulent  neighborhood,  with  connections  daily  increas- 
ing, he  had  now  a  course  of  service  to  pursue,  in  several 
respects  different  from  his  former  at  Olney.  Being,  however, 
well  acquainted  with  the  word  of  God,  and  the  heart  of  man, 
he  proposed  to  himself  no  new  weapons  of  warfare  for  pull- 
ing down  the  strong  holds  of  sin  and  Satan  around  him.  He 
perceived,  indeed,  most  of  his  parishioners  too  intent  upon 
their  wealth  and  merchandise  to  pay  much  regard  to  their 
new  minister;  but,  since  they  would  not  come  to  him,  he 
was  determined  to  go,  as  far  as  he  could,  to  them;  and, 
therefore,  soon  after  his  institution,  he  sent  a  printed  ad- 
dress to  his  parishioners:  he  afterward  sent  them  another 
address,  on  the  usual  prejudices  that  are  taken  up  against 
the  gospel.  What  effects  these  attempts  had  then  upon 
them  does  not  appear;  certain  it  is,  that  these,  and  other 
acts  of  his  ministry,  will  be  recollected  by  them  when  the 
objects  of  their  present  pursuits  are  forgotten  or  lamented. 

I  have  heard  Mr.  N.  speak  with  great  feeling  on  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  last  important  station.  "  That  one,"  said 
he,  "  of  the  most  ignorant,  the  most  miserable,  and  the  most 
abandoned  of  slaves,  should  be  plucked  from  his  forlorn 
state  of  exile  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  and  at  length  be  ap- 
pointed minister  of  the  parish  of  the  first  magistrate  of  the 
first  city  in  the  world ;  that  he  should  there  not  only  testify 
of  such  grace,  but  stand  up  as  a  singular  instance  and  monu- 
ment of  it;  that  he  should  be  enabled  to  record  it  in  his 
history,  preaching,  and  writings,  to  the  world  at  large — is 


85] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


a  fact  I  can  contemplate  with  admiration,  but  never  suffi- 
ciently estimate.''  This  reflection,  indeed,  was  so  present 
to  his  mind  on  all  occasions,  and  in  all  places,  that  he  sel- 
dom passed  a  single  day  any  where  but  lie  was  found  refer- 
ring to  the  strange  event,  in  one  way  or  other. 

When  Mr.  N.  came  to  London  he  resided  for  some  time 
in  Charles'  Square,  Hoxton;  afterward  he  removed  to 
Coleman  Street  Buildings,  where  he  continued  till  his  death. 
Being  of  the  most  friendly  and  communicative  disposition, 
his  house  was  open  to  Christians  of  all  ranks  and  denomi- 
nations. Here,  like  a  father  among  his  children,  he  used  to 
entertain,  encourage,  and  instruct  his  friends,  especially 
younger  ministers,  or  candidates  for  the  ministry.  Here 
also  the  poor,  the  afflicted,  and  the  tempted,  found  an  asy- 
lum and  a  sympathy  which  they  could  scarcely  find,  in  an 
equal  degree,  any  where  besides. 

His  timely  hints  were  often  given  with  much  point  and 
profitable  address  to  the  numerous  acquaintance  who  sur- 
rounded him  in  his  public  station.  Some  time  after  Mr.  N. 
had  published  his  Omicron,  and  described  the  three  stages 
of  growth  in  religion,  from  the  blade,  the  ear,  and  the  full 
corn  in  the  ear,  distinguishing  them  by  the  letters  A,  B,  and 
C,  a  conceited  young  minister  wrote  to  Mr.  N.,  telling  him 
that  he  read  his  own  character  accurately  drawn  in  that  of 
C.  Mr.  N.  wrote  in  reply,  that  in  drawing  the  character 
of  C,  or  full  maturity,  he  had  forgotten  to  add,  till  now,  one 
prominent  feature  of  C's  character,  namely,  that  C  never 
knew  his  own  face. 

"  It  grieves  me,"  said  Mr.  N.,  "  to  see  so  few  of  my 
wealthy  parishioners  come  to  church.  I  always  consider  the 
rich  as  under  greater  obligations  to  the  preaching  of  the  gospel 
than  the  poor.  For  at  church  the  rich  must  hear  the  whole 
truth  as  well  as  others.  There  they  have  no  mode  of  es- 
cape. But  let  them  once  get  home,  you  will  be  troubled  to 
get  at  them;  and,  when  you  are  admitted,  you  are  so  fet- 
tered with  punctilio,  so  interrupted  and  damped  with  the 
frivolous  conversation  of  their  friends,  that,  as  Archbishop 
Leighton  says, 1  it  is  well  if  your  visit  does  not  prove  a  blank 
or  a  blot.'" 

Mr.  N.  used  to  improve  every  occurrence  which  he  could 
with  propriety  bring  into  the  pulpit.  One  night  he  found  a 
bill  put  up  at  St.  Mary  Woolnoth's,  upon  which  he  com- 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[86 


merited  a  great  deal  when  he  came  to  preach.  The  hill  was 
to  this  effect :  "  A  young  man  having  come  to  the  posses- 
sion of  a  very  considerable  fortune,  desires  the  prayers  of 
the  congregation  that  he  may  be  preserved  from  the  snares 
to  which  it  exposes  him."  "  Now,  if  the  man,"  said  Mr.  N. 
"  had  lost  a  fortune,  the  world  would  not  have  wondered 
to  have  seen  him  put  up  a  bill,  but  this  man  has  been  better 
taught." 

Coming  out  of  his  church  on  a  Wednesday,  a  lady  stop- 
ped him  on  the  steps,  and  said,  "  The  ticket,  of  which  I 
held  a  quarter,  is  drawn  a  prize  of  ten  thousand  pounds. 
I  know  you  will  congratulate  me  upon  the  occasion." 
"  Madam,"  said  he,  "  as  foi  a  friend  under  temptation,  I 
will  endeavor  to  pray  for  you." 

Soon  after  he  came  to  St.  Mary's  I  remember  to  have 
heard  him  say,  in  a  certain  company,  "  Some  have  observed 
that  I  preach  shorter  sermons  on  a  Sunday  morning,  and 
with  more  caution  ;  but  this  I  do  upon  principle.  I  suppose 
1  may  have  two  or  three  of  my  bankers  present,  and  some 
others  of  my  parish,  who  have  hitherto  been  strangers  to  my 
views  of  truth.  I  endeavor  to  imitate  the  apostle.  '  I  be- 
came,' says  he,  1  all  things  to  all  men  ;'  but  observe  the  end, 
it  was  in  order  to  '  gain  some.'  The  fowler  must  go  cau- 
tiously to  meet  shy  birds,  but  he  will  not  leave  his  powder 
and  shot  behind  him.  '  I  have  fed  you  with  milk,'  says  the 
apostle ;  but  there  are  some  that  are  not  only  for  forcing 
strong  meat,  but  bones  too,  down  the  throat  of  the  child. 
We  must  have  patience  with  a  single  step  in  the  case  of  an 
infant ;  and  there  are  one-step  books  and  sermons,  which  are 
good  in  their  place.  Christ  taught  his  disciples  as  they  were 
able  to  bear ;  and  it  was  upon  the  same  principle  that  the 
apostle  accommodated  himself  to  prejudice.  Now,"  con- 
tinued he,  "  what  I  wish  to  remark  on  these  considerations 
is,  that  this  apostolical  principle,  steadily  pursued,  will  ren- 
der a  minister  apparently  inconsistent ;  superficial  hearers 
will  think  him  a  trimmer.  On  the  other  hand,  a  minister, 
destitute  of  the  apostolical  principle  and  intention,  and  di- 
recting his  whole  force  to  preserve  the  appearance  of  con- 
sistency, may  thus  seem  to  preserve  it ;  but,  let  me  tell  you, 
here  is  only  the  form  of  faithfulness  without  the  spirit." 

I  could  not  help  observing,  one  day,  how  much  Mr.  N.  was 
grieved  with  the  mistake  of  a  minister  who  appeared  to 


67] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


87 


pay  too  much  attention  to  politics.  "  For  my  part,"  said 
he,  "  I  have  no  temptation  to  turn  politician,  and  much  less 
to  inflame  a  party,  in  these  times.  When  a  ship  is  leak)', 
and  a  mutinous  spirit  divides  the  company  on  board,  a  wise 
man  would  say, '  My  good  friends,  while  we  are  debating  the 
water  is  gaining  on  us — we  had  better  leave  the  debate  and 
go  to  the  pumps.'  I  endeavor,"  continued  he,  "  to  turn  my 
people's  eyes  from  instruments  to  God.  I  am  continually 
attempting  to  show  them  how  far  they  are  from  knowing 
either  the  matter  of  fact  or  the  matter  of  right.  I  inculcate 
our  great  privileges  in  this  country,  and  advise  a  discon- 
tented man  to  take  a  lodging  for  a  little  while  in  Russia  or 
Prussia." 

Though  no  great  variety  of  anecdote  is  to  be  expected  in 
a  course  so  stationary  as  this  part  of  Mr.  N's  life  and  mi- 
nistry— for  sometimes  the  course  of  a  single  day  might  give 
the  account  of  a  whole  year — yet  that  day  was  so  benevo- 
lently spent,  that  he  was  found  in  it  "  not  only  rejoicing 
with  those  that  rejoiced,"  but  literally  "  weeping  with  those 
that  wept."  The  portrait  which  Goldsmith  drew  from  im- 
agination, Mr.  N.  realized  in  fact,  insomuch  that  had  Mr. 
N.  sat  for  his  picture  to  the  poet,  it  could  not  have  been 
more  accurately  delineated  than  by  the  following  lines  in  his 
Deserted  Village  : — 

"  Unskilful  he  to  fawn,  or  seek  for  power, 
"  By  doctrines  fasliion'd  to  the  varying  hour; 
'•  Far  other  aims  his  heart  had  learn'd  to  prize, 
"  More  bent  to  raise  the  wretched  than  to  rise. 
"  Thus  to  relieve  the  wretched  was  his  pride, 
"  And  e'en  his  failings  lean'd  to  virtue's  side; 
"  But  in  his  duty  prompt  at  every  call, 
"  He  watch'd  and  wept,  he  pray'd  and  felt,  for  all : 
"And  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries, 
"  To  tempt  his  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies, 
"  He  tried  each  ai  t,  reprov'd  each  dull  delay, 
"  Allur'd  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the  way." 

I  remember  to  have  heard  him  say,  when  speaking  of  his 
continual  interruptions,  "  I  see  in  this  world  two  heaps  of 
human  happiness  and  misery ;  now  if  I  can  take  but  the 
smallest  bit  from  one  heap  and  add  to  the  other,  I  carry  a 
point.  If,  as  I  go  home,  a  child  has  dropped  a  halfpenny, 
and  if,  by  giving  it  another,  I  can  wipe  away  its  tears,  I  feel 
I  have  done  something.  I  should  be  glad  indeed  to  do  greater 


88 


LIFE   OF  REV.   JOHN  NEWTON. 


[88 


things,  but  I  will  not  neglect  this.  When  I  hear  a  knock  at 
iny  study  door,  I  hear  a  message  from  God  ;  it  may  be  a 
lesson  of  instruction,  perhaps  a  lesson  of  patience ;  but 
since  it  is  his  message,  it  must  be  interesting." 

But  it  was  not  merely  under  his  own  roof  that  his  bene- 
volent aims  were  thus  exerted ;  he  was  found  ready  to  take  an 
active  part  in  relieving  the  miserable,  directing  the  anxious, 
or  recovering  the  wanderer,  in  whatever  state  or  place  he 
discovered  such  :  of  which  take  the  following  instance  : 

The  late  Dr.  Buchanan  was  a  youth  of  considerable  ta- 
lents, and  had  received  a  respectable  education.  I  am 
not  informed  of  his  original  destination  in  point  of  profes- 
sion;  but  certain  it  is,  that  he  left  his  parents  in  Scotland, 
with  a  design  of  viewing  the  world  at  large ;  and  that,  with- 
out those  pecuniary  resources  which  could  render  such  an 
undertaking  convenient,  or  even  practicable.  Yet,  having 
the  sanguine  expectations  of  youth,  together  with  its  inex- 
perience, he  determinately  pursued  his  plan.  I  have  seen 
an  account  from  his  own  hand,  of  the  strange,  but  by  no 
means  dishonorable  resources  to  which  he  was  reduced  in 
the  pursuit  of  this  scheme  ;  nor  can  romance  exceed  the  de- 
tail. To  London,  however,  he  came ;  and  then  he  seemed 
to  come  to  himself.  He  had  heard  Mr.  N's  character,  and  on 
a  Sunday  evening  he  came  to  St.  Mary  Woolnoth,  and  stood 
in  one  of  the  aisles  while  Mr.  N.  preached.  In  the  course 
of  that  week  he  wrote  to  Mr.  N.  some  account  of  his  ad- 
ventures and  state  of  mind.  Such  circumstances  could  be 
addressed  to  no  man  more  properly.  Mr.  N's  favorite  maxim 
was  often  in  his  mouth,  more  often  in  his  actions,  and  al- 
ways in  his  heart : 

Haud  ignara  mali,  miseris  succurrfrc  disco. 
"  Not  ignorant  of  suffering,  I  hasten  to  succour  the  wretched." 
Mr.  N.  therefore  gave  notice  from  the  pulpit  on  the  follow- 
ing Sunday  evening,  that,  if  the  person  were  present  who 
had  sent  him  such  a  letter,  he  should  be  glad  to  speak 
with  him. 

Mr.  Buchanan  gladly  accepted  the  invitation,  and  came 
to  Mr.  N's  house,  where  a  friendship  began  which  conti- 
nued till  Mr.  N's  death.  Mr.  N.  not  only  afforded  this  youth 
the  instruction  which  he  at  this  period  so  deeply  needed, 
but  marking  his  fine  abilities  and  correct  inclination,  he  in- 


89] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


89 


traduced  him  to  Henry  Thornton,  Esq.,  who,  inheriting  his 
lather's  unbounded  liberality,  and  determined  adherence  to 
the  cause  of  real  religion,  readily  patronised  the  stranger. 
Mr.  Buchanan  was,  by  the  munificence  of  this  gentleman, 
supported  through  a  university  education,  and  was  afterward 
ordained  to  a  curacy.  It  was,  however,  thought  expedient 
that  his  talents  should  be  employed  in  an  important  station 
abroad,  which  he  readily  undertook,  and  in  which  he  main- 
tained a  very  distinguished  character. 

It  ought  not  to  be  concealed  that  Mr.  Buchanan,  after  his 
advancement,  not  only  returned  his  patron  the  whole  ex- 
pense of  his  university  education,  but  also  placed  in  his 
hands  an  equal  sum,  for  the  education  of  some  pious  youth 
who  might  be  deemed  worthy  of  the  same  assistance  as  was 
once  afforded  to  himself. 

Mr.  N.  used  to  spend  a  month  or  two,  annually,  at  the 
house  of  some  friend  in  the  country ;  he  always  took  an 
affectionate  leave  of  his  congregation  before  he  departed, 
and  spoke  of  his  leaving  town  as  quite  uncertain  of  return- 
ing to  it,  considering  the  variety  of  incidents  which  might 
prevent  that  return.  Nothing  was  more  remarkable  than 
his  constant  habit  of  regarding  the  hand  of  God  in  every 
event,  however  trivial  it  might  appear  to  others.  On  every 
occasion — in  the  concerns  of  every  hour — in  matters  public 
or  private,  like  Enoch,  he  "  walked  with  God."  Take  a 
single  instance  of  his  state  of  mind  in  this  respect.  In  walk- 
ing to  his  church  he  would  say,  "  '  The  way  of  man  is  not 
in  himself,'  nor  can  he  conceive  what  belongs  to  a  single 
step — when  I  go  to  St.  Mary  Woolnoth,  it  seems  the  same 
whether  I  turn  down  Lothbury  or  go  through  the  Old  Jew- 
ry ;  but  the  going  through  one  street  and  not  another,  may 
produce  an  effect  of  lasting  consequences.  A  man  cut  down 
my  hammock  in  sport,  but  had  he  cut  it  down  half  an  hour 
later,  I  had  not  been  here,  as  the  exchange  of  crew  was 
then  making.  A  man  made  a  smoke  on  the  seashore  at  the 
time  a  ship  passed,  which  was  thereby  brought  to,  and  af- 
terward brought  me  to  England." 

Mr.  N.  experienced  a  severe  stroke  soon  after  he  came 
to  St.  Mary's,  and  while  he  resided  in  Charles'  Square,  in 
the  death  of  his  niece,  Miss  Eliza  Cunningham.  He  loved 
her  with  the  affection  of  a  parent,  and  she  was,  indeed,  truly 
lovely.   He  had  brought  her  up,  and  had  observed  that, 


90 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[90 


with  the  most  amiable  natural  qualities,  she  possessed  real 
piety.  With  every  possible  attention  from  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Newton  and  their  friends,  they  yet  saw  her  gradually  sink 
into  the  arms  of  death;  but  she  was,  through  grace,  pre- 
pared to  meet  him  as  a  messenger  sent  from  her  heavenly 
Father,  to  whom  she  departed,  October  6th,  1785,  aged 
fourteen  years  and  eight  months.  On  this  occasion  Mr.  N. 
published  a  brief  memoir  of  her  character  and  death.* 

In  the  years  1783  and  1784  Mr.  N.  preached  a  course  of 
sermons  on  an  occasion  of  which  he  gives  the  following  ac- 
count in  his  first  discourse  :  "  Conversation  in  almost  every 
company,  for  some  time  past,  has  much  turned  upon  the 
commemoration  of  Handel,  and  particularly  on  his  oratorio 
of  the  Messiah.  I  mean  to  lead  your  meditations  to  the 
language  of  the  oratorio,  and  to  consider,  in  their  order,  (if 
the  Lord,  on  whom  our  breath  depends,  shall  be  pleased  to 
afford  life,  ability,  and  opportunity,)  the  several  sublime 
and  interesting  passages  of  Scripture  which  are  the  basis  of 
that  admired  composition."  In  the  year  1786  he  published 
these  discourses  in  two  volumes,  octavo.  There  is  a  pas- 
sage so  original  at  the  beginning  of  his  fourth  sermon,  from 
Mai.  3  :  1 — 3,  "  The  Lord,  whom  ye  seek,  shall  suddenly 
come  to  his  temple,"  &c.  that  I  shall  transcribe  it  for  the 
use  of  such  as  have  not  seen  these  discourses;  at  the  same 
time  it  will,  in  a  few  words,  convey  Mr.  N's  idea  of  the 
usual  performance  of  this  oratorio,  or  attending  its  perform- 
ance in  present  circumstances. 

"  '  Whereunto  shall  we  liken  the  people  of  this  genera- 
tion, and  to  what  are  they  like?'  "  I  represent  to  myself  a 
number  of  persons,  of  various  characters,  involved  in  one 
common  charge  of  high  treason.  They  are  already  in  a 
state  of  confinement,  but  not  yet  brought  to  their  trial.  The 
facts,  however,  are  so  plain,  and  the  evidence  against  them 
so  strong  and  pointed,  that  there  is  not  the  least  doubt  of 
their  guilt  being  fully  proved,  and  that  nothing  but  a  pardon 
can  preserve  them  from  punishment.  In  this  situation  it 
should  seem  their  wisdom  to  avail  themselves  of  every  ex- 
pedient in  their  power  for  obtaining  mercy :  but  they  are 
entirely  regardless  of  their  danger,  and  wholly  taken  up  with 

*  This  Memoir  is  Tract  No.  83,  published  by  the  American  Tract 
Society 


91] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


91 


contriving  methods  of  amusing  themselves,  that  the}'  may 
pass  away  the  term  of  their  imprisonment  with  as  much 
cheerfulness  as  possible.  Among  other  resources,  they  call 
in  the  assistance  of  music:  and  amidst  a  great  variety  of 
subjects  in  this  way,  they  are  particularly  pleased  with  one. 
They  choose  to  make  the  solemnities  of  their  impending 
trial,  the  character  of  their  Judge,  the  methods  of  his  pro- 
cedure, and  the  awful  sentence  to  which  they  are  exposed, 
the  ground-work  of  a  musical  entertainment :  and,  as  if 
they  were  quite  unconcerned  in  the  event,  their  attention  is 
chiefly  fixed  upon  the  skill  of  the  composer,  in  adapting  the 
style  of  his  music  to  the  very  solemn  language  and  subject 
with  which  they  are  trifling.  The  king,  however,  out  of  his 
great  clemency  and  compassion  toward  those  who  have  no 
pity  for  themselves,  prevents  them  with  his  goodness.  Un- 
desired  by  them,  he  sends  them  a  gracious  message :  he 
assures  them  that  he  is  unwilling  they  should  suffer:  he  re- 
quires, yea,  he  entreats  them  to  submit.  He  points  out  a 
way  in  which  their  confession  and  submission  shall  be  cer- 
tainly accepted;  and  in  this  way,  which  he  condescends  to 
prescribe,  he  offers  them  a  free  and  a  full  pardon.  But  in- 
stead of  taking  a  single  step  toward  a  compliance  with  his 
goodness,  the}-"  set  his  message  likewise  to  music;  and  this, 
together  with  a  description  of  their  previous  state,  and  of 
the  fearful  doom  awaiting  them,  if  they  continue  obstinate, 
is  sung  for  their  diversion,  accompanied  with  the  sound  of 
the  cornet,  flute,  harp,  sackbut,  psaltery,  dulcimer,  and  all 
kinds  of  instruments.  Surely,  if  such  a  case  as  I  have  sup- 
posed could  be  found  in  real  life,  though  I  might  admire  the 
musical  taste  of  these  people,  I  should  commiserate  their 
insensibility." 

But  "  clouds  return  after  the  rain :"  a  greater  loss  than 
that  of  Miss  Cunningham  was  to  follow.  Enough  has  been 
said  in  these  memoirs  already  to  show  the  more  than  ordi- 
nary affection  Mr.  N.  felt  for  her  who  had  been  so  long  his 
idol,  as  he  used  to  call  her;  of  which  I  shall  add  but  one 
more  instance  out  of  many  that  might  easily  be  collected. 

Being  with  him  at  the  house  of  a  lady  at  Blackheath,  we 
stood  at  a  window  which  had  a  prospect  of  Shooter's  Hill. 
"  Ah,"  said  Mr.  N., "  I  remember  the  many  journies  I  took 
from  London  to  stand  at  the  top  of  t*'  it  hill  in  order 
to  look  toward  the  part  in  which  Mrs.  ft.  (lien  lived  :  not 


03 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[92 


that  I  could  see  the  spot  itself,  after  travelling  several  miles, 
for  she  lived  far  beyond  what  I  could  see,  when  on  the  hill ; 
but  it  gratified  me  even  to  look  toward  the  spot:  and  this  I 
did  always  once,  and  sometimes  twice  a  week."  "  Why," 
said  J,  "  this  is  more  like  one  of  the  vagaries  of  romance 
than  of  real  life."  "  True,"  replied  lie,  "  but  real  life  has 
extravagancies  that  would  not  be  admitted  to  appear  in  a 
well-written  romance — they  would  be  said  to  be  out  of 
nature." 

In  such  a  continued  habit  of  excessive  attachment,  it  is 
evident  how  keenly  Mr.  N.  must  have  felt,  while  he  observed 
the  progress  of  a  threatening  disorder.  This  will  be  ma- 
nifest from  the  following  account  which  he  published.  It 
was  added  to  his  publication,  Letters  to  a  Wife,  and  he 
entitles  it 

A  Relation  of  some  Particulars  respecting  the  Cause,  Progress,  and 
Close  of  the  last  Illness  of  my  late  dear  Wife. 

Among  my  readers  there  will  doubtless  be  some  of  a 
gentle,  sympathizing  spirit,  with  whom  I  am  not  personally 
acquainted ;  and  perhaps  their  feelings  may  so  far  interest 
them  in  my  concerns  as  to  make  them  not  unwilling  to  read 
a  brief  account  of  my  late  great  trial. 

My  dear  wife  had  naturally  a  good  constitution,  and  was 
favored  with  good  spirits  to  the  last :  but  the  violent  shock 
she  sustained  in  the  year  1754,  when  I  was  suddenly  at- 
tacked by  a  fit  (  I  know  not  of  what  kind)  which  left  me 
no  sign  of  life  for  about  an  hour,  but  breathing,  made  as 
sudden  a  change  in  her  habit,  and  subjected  her,  from  that 
time,  to  a  variety  of  chronic  complaints.  She  was  several 
times  confined,  for  five  or  six  months,  to  her  chamber,  and 
often  brought  so  low  that  her  recovery  seemed  hopeless.  I 
believe  she  spent  ten  j'ears,  out  of  the  forty  that  she  was 
spared  to  me,  (if  all  the  days  of  her  sufferings  were  added 
together,)  in  illness  and  pain.  But  she  had  likewise  long 
intervals  of  health.  The  fit  I  have  mentioned  (the  only  one 
I  ever  had)  was  the  means  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  appoint, 
in  answer  to  my  prayers,  to  free  me  from  the  irksome  sea- 
faring life  in  which  I  was  till  then  engaged,  and  to  appoint 
me  a  settlement  on  shore. 

Before  our  removal  from  Liverpool  she  received  a  blow 
upon  her  left  breast,  which  occasioned  her  some  pain  and 
anxiety,  for  a  little  time,  but  which  soon  wore  off.  A  small 


93] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


03 


lump  remained  in  the  part  affected,  but  I  heard  no  more  of 
it  for  many  years.  I  believe  that,  latterly,  she  felt  more 
than  I  was  aware  of;  but  her  tenderness  for  me  made  her 
conceal  it  as  long  as  possible.  I  have  often  since  wondered  at 
her  success,  and  how  I  could  be  kept  so  long  ignorant  of  it. 

In  the  month  of  October,  1788,  she  applied,  unknown  to 
me,  to  a  friend  of  mine,  an  eminent  surgeon:  her  design 
was,  if  he  approved  it,  to  submit  to  an  operation,  and  so  to 
adjust  time  and  circumstances  with  him,  that  it  might  be 
performed  in  my  absence,  and  before  I  could  know  it :  but 
the  surgeon  told  her  that  the  malady  was  too  far  advanced, 
and  the  tumour  (the  size  of  which  he  compared  to  the  half 
of  a  melon)  was  too  large  to  warrant  the  hope  of  being  ex- 
tracted without  the  most  imminent  danger  of  her  life,  and 
that  he  durst  not  attempt  it.  He  could  give  her  but  little 
advice,  more  than  to  keep  herself  as  quiet,  and  her  mind  as 
easy  as  possible;  and  little  more  encouragement,  than  by 
saying  that  the  pains  to  which  she  was  exposed  were  ge- 
nerally rendered  tolerable  by  the  use  of  laudanum  ;  to  which, 
however,  she  had  a  dislike,  little  short  of  an  antipathy. 

I  cannot  easily  describe  the  composure  and  resignation 
with  which  she  gave  me  this  recital  the  next  day  after  her 
interview  with  the  surgeon  ;  nor  of  the  sensations  of  my 
mind  while  I  heard  it.  My  conscience  told  me  that  I  had 
well  deserved  to  be  wounded  where  I  was  most  sensible  ; 
and  that  it  was  my  duty  to  submit  with  silence  to  the  will 
of  the  Lord.  But  I  strongly  felt  that,  unless  he  was  pleased 
to  give  me  this  submission,  I  was  more  likely  to  toss  like  a 
wild  bull  in  a  net,  in  defiance  of  my  better  judgment. 

Soon  after,  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  visit  our  dear  adopted 
daughter  with  a  dreadful  fever,  which  at  first  greatly  affected 
her  nerves,  and  afterward  became  putrid.  She  (Miss  Catlett) 
was  brought  very  near  to  the  grave  indeed ;  for  we,  once  or 
twice,  thought  her  actually  dead.  But  He,  who  in  the  midst 
of  judgment  remembers  mercy,  restored  her,  and  still  pre- 
serves her,  to  be  the  chief  temporal  comfort  of  my  old  age, 
and  to  afford  me  the  greatest  alleviation  of  the  loss  I  was 
soon  to  experience,  that  the  case  could  admit. 

The  attention  and  anxiety  occasioned  by  this  heavy  dis- 
pensation, which  lasted  during  the  whole  of  a  very  severe 
winter ;  were  by  no  means  suited  to  promote  that  tranquil- 
lity of  mind  which  my  good  friend  wished  my  dear  wife 


94 


LIFE  OP  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[94 


would  endeavor  to  preserve.  She  was  often  much  fatigued, 
and  often  much  alarmed.  Next  to  each  other,  this  dear 
child  had  the  nearest  place,  both  in  her  heart  and  mine. 
The  effects  were  soon  apparent:  as  the  spring  of  1789  ad- 
vanced, her  malady  rapidly  increased  ;  her  pains  were  almost 
incessant,  and  often  intense,  and  she  could  seldom  lie  one 
hour  in  her  bed  in  the  same  position.  .  Oh !  my  heart,  what 
didst  thou  then  suffer! 

But  in  April,  the  God  who  heareth  prayer  mercifully 
afforded  relief,  and  gave  such  a  blessing  to  the  means  em- 
ployed, that  her  pains  ceased.  And  though  I  believe  she 
never  had  an  hour  of  perfect  ease,  she  felt  little  of  the  dis- 
tressing pains  incident  to  her  malady,  from  that  time  to  the 
end  of  her  life,  (which  was  about  twenty  months,)  excepting 
at  three  or  four  short  intervals,  which,  taken  together, 
hardly  amounted  to  two  hours:  and  these  returns  of  an- 
guish, I  thought,  were  permitted  to  show  me  how  much  I 
was  indebted  to  the  goodness  of  God  for  exempting  her 
feelings  and  my  sympathy  from  what  would  have  been 
terrible  indeed! 

In  the  close  of  the  summer  she  was  able  to  go  to  South- 
ampton, and  returned  tolerably  well.  She  was  twice  at 
church  in  the  first  week  after  she  came  home.  She  then 
went  no  more  abroad,  except  in  a  coach,  for  a  little  air  and 
exercise:  but  she  was  cheerful,  tolerably  easy,  slept  as  well 
as  most  people  who  are  in  perfect  health,  and  could  receive 
and  converse  with  her  kind  friends  who  visited  her. 

It  was  not  long  after,  that  she  began  to  have  a  distaste 
for  food,  which  continued  and  increased  ;  so  that,  perhaps, 
her  death  was,  at  last,  rather  owing  to  weakness,  from  want 
of  nourishment,  than  to  her  primary  disorder.  Her  dislike 
was,  first,  to  butcher's  meat,  of  which  she  could  bear  neither 
the  sight  nor  the  smell.  Poultry  and  fish,  in  their  turns, 
became  equally  distasteful.  She  retained  some  relish  for 
small  birds,  awhile  after  she  had  given  up  the  rest;  but  it 
was  at  a  season  when  they  were  difficult  to  be  obtained.  .  I 
hope  I  shall  always  feel  my  obligations  to  the  kind  friends 
who  spared  no  pains  to  procure  some  for  her,  when  they 
were  not  to  be  had  in  the  markets.  At  that  time  I  set  more 
value  upon  a  dozen  of  larks  than  upon  the  finest  ox  in 
Smithfield.  But  her  appetite  failed  to  these  also,  when 
they  became  more  plentiful. 


95] 


LIFE  OF  RET.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


0" 


Undcr  this  trying  discipline  I  learnt,  more  sensibly  than 
ever,  to  pity  those  whose  sufferings,  of  a  similar  kind,  are 
aggravated  by -poverty.  Our  distress  was  not  small,  yet  we 
had  every  thing  within  reach,  that  could,  in  any  degree, 
conduce  to  her  refreshment  or  relief;  and  we  had  faithful 
and  affectionate  servants,  who  were  always  willingly  engaged 
to  their  power,  yea,  as  the  apostle  speaks,  beyond  then 
power,  in  attending  and  assisting  her,  by  night  and  by  day. 
What  must  be  the  feelings  of  those  who,  when  afflicted  with 
grievous  diseases,  pine  away,  unpitied,  unnoticed,  without 
help,  and,  in  a  great  measure,  destitute  of  common  neces- 
saries? This  reflection,  among  others,  contributed  to  quiet 
my  mind,  and  to  convince  me  that  I  had  still  much  more 
cause  for  thankfulness  than  for  complaint. 

For  about  a  twelvemonth  of  her  confinement  her  spirits 
were  good,  her  patience  was  exemplary,  and  there  was  a 
cheerfulness  in  her  looks  and  her  language  that  was  wonder- 
ful. Often  the  liveliness  of  her  remarks  has  forced  a  smiie 
from  us,  when  the  tears  were  in  our  eyes.  Whatever  little 
contrivances  she  formed  for  her  amusement,  in  the  cour.-c 
of  the  day,  she  would  attend  to  nothing  till  she  had  finished 
her  stated  reading  of  the  Scripture,  in  which  she  employed 
much  time  and  great  attention.  I  have  her  Bible  by  me, 
(which  I  would  not  part  with  for  half  the  manuscripts  in  the 
Vatican,)  in  which  almost  every  principal  text,  from  the  be- 
ginning to  the  end  of  the  book,  is  marked  in  the  margin 
with  a  pencil,  by  her  own  dear  hand.  The  good  word  of 
God  was  her  medicine  and  her  food,  while  she  was  able  to 
read  it.  She  read  Dr.  Watts's  Psalms  and  Hymns,  and  the 
Olney  Hymns,  in  the  same  manner.  There  are  few  of  them 
in  which  one,  two,  or  more  verses,  are  not  thus  marked  ; 
and  in  man}',  which  I  suppose  she  read  more  frequently, 
every  verse  is  marked.  ^ 

But  in  October  the  enemy  was  permitted,  for  a  while, 
to  take  advantage  of  her  bodily  weakness,  to  disturb  the 
peace  and  serenity  of  her  mind.  Her  thoughts  became 
douded  and  confused ;  and  she  gradually  lost,  not  only  the 
comfortable  evidence  of  her  own  interest  in  the  precious 
truths  of  the  Bible,  but  she  lost  all  hold  of  the  truth  itself. 
She  doubted  the  truth  of  the  Bible,  or  whether  truth  existed  ; 
and,  together  with  this,  she  expressed  an  extreme  reluctance 
to  death,  and  could  not  easily  bear  the  most  distant  hint  of 


96 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[96 


her  approaching  end,  though  we  were  expecting  it  daily  and 
hourly.  This  was  the  acme,  the  highwater-mark  of  my  trial : 
this  was  hard  to  bear  indeed. 

My  readers,  perhaps,  will  scarcely  believe  that  I  derived 
some  consolation,  during  this  gloomy  period,  from  perceiving 
that  her  attachment  to  me  was  very  sensibly  abated.  She 
spoke  to  me  with  an  indifference,  of  which,  a  little  before, 
she  was  incapable.  If,  when  the  Lord's  presence  was  with- 
drawn, and  she  could  derive  no  comfort  from  his  word,  she 
had  found  some  relief  from  my  being  with  her,  or  from  hear- 
ing me  speak,  I  should  have  been  more  grieved.  Her  affec- 
tion to  me,  confirmed  by  so  many  proofs,  in  the  course  of 
forty  years,  was  not  to  be  impeached  by  this  temporary 
suspension  of  its  exercise.  I  judged  the  same  of  the  frame 
of  her  mind,  as  to  her  spiritual  concerns:  I  ascribed  them 
both  to  the  same  causes — her  bodily  weakness,  and  the 
power  of  temptation.  She  was  relieved,  in  both  respects, 
after  about  a  fortnight  spent  in  conflict  and  dismay.  The 
Lord  restored  peace  to  her  soul,  and  then  her  former  ten- 
derness to  me  immediately  revived.  Then,  likewise,  she 
could  calmly  speak  of  her  approaching  dissolution.  She 
mentioned  some  particulars  concerning  her  funeral,  and  our 
domestic  concerns,  with  great  composure.  But  her  mind 
was  not  so  fully  restored  to  its  former  tone  as  to  give  her 
freedom  to  enlarge  upon  her  hopes  and  views,  as  I  had 
wished,  till  near  her  dissolution  ;  and  then  she  was  too  low 
to  speak  at  all. 

One  addition  to  our  trial  yet  remained.  It  had  been  her 
custom,  when  she  went  from  her  sofa  to  her  bed,  to  exert 
herself  for  my  encouragement,  to  show  me  how  well  she 
could  walk.  But  it  pleased  the  Lord  that,  by  some  altera- 
tion, which  affected  her  spine,  she  was  disabled  from  moving 
herself;  and  other  circumstances  rendered  it  extremely  dif- 
ficult to  move  her.  It  has  taken  five  of  us  nearly  two  hours 
to  remove  her  from  one  side  of  the  bed  to  the  other,  and, 
at  times,  even  this  was  impracticable:  so  that  she  has  lain 
more  than  a  week  exactly  in  the  same  spot,  without  the 
possibility  of  changing  her  position.  All  this  was  necessary 
on  my  account.  The  rod  had  a  voice,  and  it  was  the  voice 
of  the  Lord.  I  understood  the  meaning  no  less  plainly 
than  if  he  had  spoken  audibly  from  heaven,  and  said,  "  Now 
contemplate  your  idol.    Now  see  what  she  is  whom  you 


97] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


97 


once  presumed  to  prefer  to  Me!"  Even  this  bitter  cup  was 
sweetened  by  the  patience  and  resignation  which  he  gave 
her.  When  I  have  said,  "  You  suffer  greatly,''  her  answer 
usually  was,  "  I  suffer,  indeed,  but  not  greatly."  And  she 
often  expressed  her  thankfulness  that,  though  her  body  was 
immovable,  she  was  still  permitted  the  use  of  her  hands. 

One  of  the  last  sensible  concerns  she  felt,  respecting  this 
world,  was  when  my  honored  friend,  patron,  and  benefactor, 
the  late  John  Thornton,  Esq.,  of  Clapham,  was  removed  to 
a  better.  She  revered  and  regarded  him,  I  believe,  more 
than  she  did  any  person  upon  earth:  and  she  had  reason. 
Few  had  nearer  access,  to  know  and  admire  his  character; 
and  perhaps  none  were  under  greater,  if  equal,  obligations 
to  him  than  we.  She  knew  of  his  illness,  but  was  always 
afraid  to  inquire  after  the  event ;  nor  should  I  have  ventured 
to  inform  her,  but  that  the  occasion  requiring  me  to  leave 
her  for  four  or  five  hours,  when  I  hardly  expected  to  find 
her  alive  at  ray  return,  I  was  constrained  to  give  her  the 
reason  of  my  absence.  She  eagerly  replied,  "  Go  by  all 
means ;  I  would  not  have  you  stay  with  me  upon  any  con- 
sideration." I  put  the  funeral  ring  I  was  favored  with  into 
her  hands;  she  put  it  first  to  her  lips,  and  then  to  her  eyes, 
bedewing  it  with  her  tears.  I  trust  they  soon  met  again.  But 
she  survived  him  more  than  a  month. 

Her  head  became  so  affected  that  I  could  do  little  more 
than  sit  and  look  at  her.  Our  intercourse  by  words  was 
nearly  broken  off.  She  could  not  easily  bear  the  sound  of 
the  gentlest  foot  upon  the  carpet,  nor  of  the  softest  voice. 
On  Sunday,  the  12th  of  December,  when  I  was  preparing 
for  church  in  the  morning,  she  sent  for  me,  and  we  took  a 
final  farewell,  as  to  this  world.  She  faintly  uttered  an  en- 
dearing appellation,  which  was  familiar  to  her,  and  gave  me 
her  hand,  which  I  held,  while  I  prayed  by  her  bedside.  We 
exchanged  a  few  tears ;  but  I  was  almost  as  unable  to  speiik 
as  she  was.  But  1  returned  soon  after,  and  said,  "  If  your 
mind,  as  I  trust,  is  in  a  state  of  peace,  it  will  be  a  comfort 
to  me  if  you  can  signify  it  by  holding  up  your  hand."  She 
held  it  up,  and  waved  it  to  and  fro  several  times. 

That  evening  her  speech,  her  sight,  and,  I  believe,  her 
hearing,  wholly  failed.  She  continued  perfectly  composed, 
without  taking  notice  of  any  thing,  or  discovering  any  sign 
of  pain  or  uneasiness,  till  Wednesday  evening  toward  seven. 


93 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[98 


o'clock.  She  then  began  to  breathe  very  hard  ;  her  breath- 
ing might  be  called  groaning,  for  it  was  heard  in  every  part 
of  the  house  ;  but  I  believe  it  was  entirely  owing  to  the  diffi- 
culty of  respiration,  for  she  lay  quite  still,  with  a  placid 
countenance,  as  if  in  a  gentle  slumber.  There  was  no 
start  or  struggle,  nor  a  feature  ruffled.  I  took  my  post 
by  her  bed-side,  and  watched  her  nearly  three  hours,  with 
a  candle  in  my  hand,  till  I  saw  her  breathe  her  last,  on 
the  15th  of  December,  1790,  a  little  before  ten  in  the 
evening. 

When  I  was  sure  she  was  gone  I  took  off  her  ring,  ac- 
cording to  her  repeated  injunction,  and  put  it  upon  my  own 
finger.  I  then  kneeled  down  with  the  servants  who  were  in 
the  room,  and  returned  the  Lord  my  unfeigned  thanks  for 
her  deliverance,  and  her  peaceful  dismission. 

How  wonderful  must  be  the  moment  after  death !  "What 
a  transition  did  she  then  experience !  She  was  instantly 
freed  from  sin,  and  all  its  attendant  sorrows,  and,  I  trust,  in- 
stantly admitted  to  join  the  heavenly  choir.  That  moment 
was  remarkable  to  me  likewise.  It  removed  from  me  the 
chief  object  which  made  another  day  or  hour  of  life,  as  to 
my  own  personal  concern,  desirable.  At  the  same  time  it 
set  me  free  from  a  weight  of  painful  feelings  and  anxieties, 
under  which  nothing  short  of  a  divine  power  could  have  so 
long  supported  me. 

I  believe  it  was  about  two  or  three  months  before  her 
death,  when  I  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  offering 
disjointed  prayers,  from  a  heart  torn  with  distress,  that  a 
thought  suddenly  struck  me  with  unusual  force,  to  this  effect : 
The  promises  of  God  must  be  true ;  surely  the  Lord  will 
help  me,  if  I  am  willing  to  be  helped !  It  occurred  to  me 
that  we  are  often  led,  from  a  vain  complacence  in  what  we 
call  our  sensibility,  to  indulge  that  unprofitable  grief  which 
both  our  duty  and  our  peace  require  4is  to  resist  to  the  ut- 
most of  our  power.  1  instantly  said  aloud,  "  Lord,  I  am 
helpless  indeed  in  myself,  but  I  hope  I  am  willing,  without 
reserve,  that  thou  shouldst  help  me." 

It  had  been  much  upon  my  mind,  from  the  beginning  of 
this  trial,  that  I  was  a  minister,  and  that  the  eyes  of  many 
were  upon  me ;  that  my  turn  of  preaching  had  very  much 
led  me  to  endeavor  to  comfort  the  afflicted,  by  representing 
the  Gospel  as  a  catholicon,  affording  an  effectual  remedy 


90] 


LIFE   OF   KET.  JOHN  NEWTON". 


99 


for  every  evil,  a  full  compensation  for  every  want  or  loss, 
to  those  who  truly  receive  it ;  so  that  though  a  believer  may 
be  afflicted,  he  cannot  be  properly  unhappy,  unless  he  gives 
way  to  self-will  and  unbelief.  I  had  often  told  my  hearers 
that  a  state  of  trial,  if  rightly  improved,  was,  to  the  Chris- 
tian, a  post  of  honor,  affording  the  fairest  opportunity  of  ex- 
emplifying the  power  of  divine  grace,  to  the  praise  and  glory 
of  the  Giver.  It  had  been,  therefore,  my  frequent  daily 
prayer  that  I  might  not,  by  impatience  or  despondency,  be 
deprived  of  the  advantage  my  situation  afforded  me,  of  con- 
firming, by  my  own  practice,  the  doctrine  which  I  had 
preached  to  others  ;  and  that  I  might  not  give  them  occasion 
to  apply  to  me  the  words  of  Eliphaz  to  Job,  chap.  4  :  4,  5, 
"  Thy  words  have  upholder!  him  that  was  falling,  and  thou 
hast  strengthened  the  feeble  knees  ;  but  now  it  is  come  upon 
thee,  and  thou  faintest ;  it  toucheth  thee,  and  thou  art  trou- 
bled !"  And  I  had  not  prayed  in  vain.  But  from  the  time 
that  I  so  remarkably  felt  myself  willing  to  be  helped,  I  might 
truly  say,  to  the  praise  of  the  Lord,  my  heart  trusted  in 
Him,  and  I  was  helped  indeed.  Through  the  w  hole  of  my 
painful  trial  I  attended  all  my  stated  and  occasional  services, 
as  usual ;  and  a  stranger  would  scarcely  have  discovered, 
either  by  my  words  or  looks,  that  I  was  in  trouble.  Many 
of  our  intimate  friends  were  apprehensive  that  this  long 
affliction,  and  especially  the  closing  event,  would  have  over- 
whelmed me  ;  but  it  was  far  otherwise.  It  did  not  prevent 
me  from  preaching  a  single  sermon,  and  I  preached  on  the 
day  of  her  death. 

After  she  was  gone,  my  willingness  to  be  helped,  and  my 
desire  that  the  Lord's  goodness  to  me  might  be  observed  by 
others,  for  their  encouragement,  made  me  indifferent  to 
some  laws  of  established  custom,  the  breach  of  which  is  often 
more  noticed  than  the  violation  of  God's  commands.  I  was 
afraid  of  sitting  at  home,  and  indulging  myself,  by  poring 
over  my  loss ;  and  therefore  I  was  seen  in  the  street,  and 
visited  some  of  my  serious  friends  the  very  next  da}'.  I  like- 
wise preached  three  times  while  she  lay  dead  in  the  house. 
Some  of  my  brethren  kindly  offered  their  assistance  ;  but  as 
the  Lord  was  pleased  to  give  me  strength,  both  of  body  and 
mind,  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  stand  up  in  my  place,  as  for- 
merly. And  after  she  was  deposited  in  the  vault  I  preached 


100 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[100 


her  funeral  sermon,*  with  little  more  sensible  emotion  than 
if  it  had  been  for  another  person.  I  have  reason  to  hope 
that  many  of  my  hearers  were  comforted  and  animated  un- 
der their  afflictions,  by  what  they  saw  of  the  Lord's  good- 
ness to  me  in  my  time  of  need.  And  I  acknowledge  that  it 
was  well  worth  standing  a  while  in  the  fire,  for  such  an  op- 
portunity of  experiencing  and  exhibiting  the  power  and 
faithfulness  of  his  promises. 

I  was  not  supported  by  lively  sensible  consolations,  but 
by  being  enabled  to  realize  to  my  mind  some  great  and  lead- 
ing truths  of  the  word  of  God.  I  saw,  what  indeed  1  knew 
before,  but  never  till  then  so  strongly  and  clearly  perceived, 
that,  as  a  sinner,  I  had  no  right,  and  as  a  believer,  I  could 
have  no  reason  to  complain.  I  considered  her  as  a  loan, 
which  He  who  lent  her  to  me  had  a  right  to  resume  when- 
ever He  pleased  ;  and  that  as  I  had  deserved  to  forfeit  her 
every  day,  from  the  first,  it  became  me  rather  to  be  thank- 
ful that  she  was  spared  so  long  to  me,  than  to  resign  her 
with  reluctance  when  called  for.  Farther,  that  his  sove- 
reignty was  connected  with  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness, 
and  that,  consequently,  if  it  were  possible  for  me  to  alter 
any  part  of  his  plan,  I  could  only  spoil  it ;  that  such  a  short- 
sighted creature  as  I,  so  blind  to  the  possible  consequences 
of  my  own  wishes,  was  not  only  unworthy,  but  unable  to 
choose  well  for  himself;  and  that  it  was  therefore  my  great 
mercy  and  privilege  that  the  Lord  condescended  to  choose 
for  me.  May  such  considerations  powerfully  affect  the  hearts 
of  my  readers  under  their  troubles,  and  then  I  shall  not  re- 
gret having  submitted  to  the  view  of  the  public,  a  detail 
which  may  seem  more  proper  for  the  subject  of  a  private 
letter  to  a  friend.  They  who  can  feel,  will,  I  hope,  excuse 
me :  and  it  is  chiefly  for  their  sakes  that  I  have  written  it. 

When  my  wife  died  the  world  seemed  to  die  with  her,  (1 
hope,  to  revive  no  more.)  I  see  little  now  but  my  ministry 
and  my  Christian  profession  to  make  a  continuance  in  life 
for  a  single  day  desirable ;  though  I  am  willing  to  wait  my 
appointed  time.  If  the  world  cannot  restore  her  to  me  (not 
that  I  have  the  remotest  wish  that  her  return  was  possible) 
it  can  do  nothing  for  me.  The  Bank  of  England  is  too  poor 

*  From  a  text  which  I  had  reserved  from  my  first  entrance  on  the 
ministry,  for  this  particular  service,  if  I  should  surv  ive  her,  and  be 
able  to  speak. 


101] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


101 


to  compensate  for  such  a  loss  as  mine.  But  the  Lord,  the 
all-sufficient  God,  speaks,  and  it  is  done.  Let  those  who 
know  him,  and  trust  him,  be  of  good  courage.  He  can  give 
them  strength  according  to  their  day  ;  He  can  increase  their 
strength  as  their  trials  are  increased,  to  any  assignable  de- 
gree. And  what  He  can  do,  He  has  promised  He  will  do. 
The  power  and  faithfulness  on  which  the  successive  changes 
of  day  and  night,  and  of  the  seasons  of  the  year  depend,  and 
which  uphold  the  stars  in  their  orbits,  are  equally  engaged  to 
support  his  people,  and  to  lead  them  safely  and  unhurt  (if  their 
path  be  so  appointed)  through  floods  and  flames.  Though  I 
believe  she  has  never  yet  been  (and  probably  never  will  be) 
out  of  my  waking  thoughts  for  five  minutes  at  a  time,  though 
I  sleep  in  the  bed  in  which  she  suffered  and  languished  so 
long,  I  have  not  had  one  uncomfortable  day,  nor  one  rest- 
less night,  since  she  left  me.  I  have  lost  a  right  hand,  which 
I  cannot  but  miss  continually,  but  the  Lord  enables  me  to 
go  on  cheerfully  without  it. 

May  his  blessing  rest  upon  the  reader!  May  glory,  ho- 
nor and  praise  be  ascribed  to  his  great  and  holy  name,  now 
and  for  ever  !  Amen. 


The  following  verses  were  composed  by  Mr.  Newton,  and 
sung  after  her  funeral  sermon. 

Habakkuk,  3  :  17,  18. 

The  earth,  with  rich  abundance  stor'd, 

To  answer  all  our  wants, 
Invites  our  hearts  to  praise  the  Lord 

For  what  his  bounty  grants. 

Flocks,  herds,  and  corn,  and  grateful  fruit, 

His  gracious  hand  supplies; 
And  while  our  various  tastes  they  suit, 

Their  prospect  cheers  our  eyes. 

To  these  He  adds  each  tender  tie 

Of  sweet  domestic  life  ; 
Endearing  joys,  the  names  imply, 

Of  parent,  husband,  wife. 

But  sin  has  poisoned  all  below, 

Our  blessings  burdens  prove ; 
On  ev'ry  hand  we  suffer  wo, 

But  most,  where  most  we  love 


J02 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[102 


Nor  vintage,  harvest,  flocks,  nor  herds, 

Can  till  the  heart's  desire; 
And  oft  a  worm  destroys  our  gourds, 

And  all  our  hopes  expire. 

Domestic  joys,  alas !  how  rare  ! 

Possessed  and  known  by  few  ' 
And  they  who  know  them,  find  they  are 

As  frail  and  transient  too. 

But  you  who  love  the  Savior's  voice, 

And  rest  upon  his  name ; 
Amidst  these  changes  may  rejoice, 

For  He  is  still  the  same. 

The  Lord  himself  will  soon  appear, 

Whom  you,  unseen,  adore; 
Then  He  will  wipe  off  ev'ry  tear, 

And  you  shall  weep  no  more. 

Mr.  N.  made  this  remark  on  her  death,  "  Just  before 
Mrs.  N's  disease  became  so  formidable,  I  was  preaching  on 
the  waters  of  Egypt  being  turned  into  blood.  The  Egyp- 
tians had  idolized  their  river,  and  God  made  them  loath  it. 
I  was  apprehensive  it  would  soon  be  a  similar  case  with 
me."  During  the  very  affecting  season  of  Mrs.  N's  dissolu- 
tion, Mr.  N.,  like  David,  wept  and  prayed  ;  but  the  desire 
of  his  eyes  being  taken  away  by  the  stroke,  he  too,  like 
David,  "  arose  from  the  earth,  and  came  into  the  temple  of 
the  Lord,  and  worshipped,"  and  that  in  a  manner  which 
surprised  some  of  his  friends. 

Besides  which,  Mr.  N.  had  a  favorite  sentiment,  which  I 
have  heard  him  express  in  different  ways,  long  before  he 
had  so  special  an  occasion  for  illustrating  it  in  practice. 
"  God  in  his  providence,"  he  used  to  say,  "  is  continually 
bringing  about  occasions  to  demonstrate  characters."  He 
used  to  instance  the  case  of  Achan  and  Judas  among  bad 
men ;  and  that  of  St.  Paul,  Acts,  27,  among  good  ones. 
"  If  any  one,"  said  he,  "  had  asked  the  centurion  who  Paul 
the  prisoner  was  that  sailed  with  them  on  board  the  ship — 
it  is  probable  he  would  have  thus  replied,  '  He  is  a  trou- 
blesome enthusiast,  who  has  lately  joined  himself  to  a  cer- 
tain sect.  These  people  affirm  that  a  Jewish  malefactor, 
who  was  crucified  some  years  ago  at  Jerusalem,  rose  the 
third  day  from  the  dead  ;  and  this  Paul  is  mad  enough  to 
asset t  that  Jesus,  the  leader  of  their  sect,  is  not  only  now 


103] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


103 


alive,  but  that  he  himself  has  seen  him,  and  is  resolved  to 
live  and  die  with  him — Poor  crazy  creature  !'  But  God 
made  use  of  this  occasion  to  discover  the  real  character  of 
Paul,  and  taught  the  centurion,  from  the  circumstances 
which  followed,  to  whom  it  was  he  owed  his  direction  in  the 
storm,  and  for  whose  sake  he  received  his  preservation 
through  it." 

In  all  trying  occasions,  therefore,  Mr.  N.  was  particularly 
impressed  with  the  idea  of  a  Christian,  and  especially  of  a 
Christian  minister,  being  called  to  stand  forward  as  an  ex- 
ample to  his  flock — to  feel  himself  placed  in  a  post  of  ho- 
nor— a  post  in  which  he  may  not  only  glorify  God,  but  also 
forcibly  demonstrate  the  peculiar  supports  of  the  Gospel. 
More  especially  when  this  could  be  done  (as  in  his  own 
case)  from  no  doubtful  motive;  then  it  may  be  expedient  to 
leave  the  path  of  ordinary  custom,  for  the  greater  reason  of 
exhibiting  both  the  doctrines  of  truth  and  the  experience  of 
their  power. 

Though  I  professedly  publish  none  of  Mr.  N's  letters,  yet 
I  shall  take  the  liberty  to  insert  part  of  one,  with  which  I 
am  favored  by  J.  Forbes,  Esq.  of  Stanmore  Hill,  written 
to  him  while  at  Rome,  and  dated  December  5th,  1796.  It 
shows  the  interest  which  the  writer  took  in  the  safety  of  his 
friend,  and  his  address  in  attempting  to  break  the  enchant- 
ments with  which  men  of  taste  are  surrounded,  when  stand- 
ing in  the  centre  of  the  fine  arts. 

"  The  true  Christian,  in  strict  propriety  of  speech,  has 
no  home  here ;  he  is,  and  must  be,  a  stranger  and  a  pilgrim 
upon  earth :  his  citizenship,  treasure,  and  real  home,  are  in 
a  better  world  ;  and  every  step  he  takes,  whether  to  the  east 
or  to  the  west,  is  a  step  nearer  to  his  Father's  house.  On 
the  other  hand,  when  in  the  path  of  duty,  he  is  always  at 
home ;  for  the  whole  earth  is  the  Lord's :  and  as  we  see 
the  same  sun  in  England  or  Italy,  in  Europe  or  Asia,  so 
wherever  he  is,  he  equally  sets  the  Lord  always  before  him, 
and  finds  himself  equally  near  the  throne  of  grace  at  all 
times  and  in  all  places.  God  is  every  where,  and,  by  faith 
in  the  Great  Mediator,  he  dwells  in  God,  and  God  in  him." 

"  I  trust,  my  dear  Sir,  that  you  will  carry  out  and  bring 
home  with  you,  a  determination  similar  to  that  of  the  pa- 
triarch Jacob,  who  vowed  a  vow,  saying,  '  If  God  will  be 
with  me,  and  will  keep  me  in  the  way  that  I  go,  and  will 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[104 


give  mc  bread  to  eat,  and  raiment  to  put  on,  so  that  I  come 
again  to  my  father's  house  in  peace,  then  shall  the  Lord  be 
my  God  !'  May  the  Lord  himself  write  it  on  your  heart ! 

"  You  are  now  at  Rome,  the  centre  of  the  fine  arts ;  a 
place  abounding  with  every  thing  to  gratify  a  person  of  youi 
taste.  Athens  had  the  pre-eminence  in  the  apostle  Paul's 
time;  and  I  think  it  highly  probable,  from  many  passages 
in  his  writings,  that  he  likewise  had  a  taste  capable  of  ad- 
miring and  relishing  the  beauties  of  painting,  sculpture,  and 
architecture,  which  he  could  not  but  observe  during  his  abode 
in  that  city:  but  then  he  had  a  higher,  a  spiritual,  a  divine 
taste,  which  was  greatly  shocked  and  grieved  by  the  igno- 
rance, idolatry,  and  wickedness,  which  surrounded  him,  in- 
somuch that  he  could  attend  to  nothing  else.  This  taste, 
which  cannot  be  acquired  by  any  effort  or  study  of  ours, 
but  is  freely  bestowed  on  all  who  sincerely  ask  it  of  the 
Lord,  divests  the  vanities,  which  the  world  admire,  of  their 
glare ;  and  enables  us  to  judge  of  the  most  splendid  and 
specious  works  of  men,  who  know  not  God,  according  to 
the  declaration  of  the  prophet, '  They  hatch  cockatrice  eggs, 
and  weave  the  spider's  web.'  Much  ingenuity  is  displayed 
in  the  weaving  of  a  cobweb,  but  when  finished  it  is  worth- 
less and  useless  :  incubation  requires  close  diligence  and  at- 
tention ;  if  the  hen  is  too  long  from  her  nest,  the  egg  is 
spoiled ;  but  why  should  she  sit  at  all  upon  the  egg,  and 
watch  it,  and  warm  it  night  and  day,  if  it  only  produces  a 
cockatrice  at  last"?  Thus  vanity  and  mischief  are  the  chief 
rulers  of  unsanctified  genius;  the  artists  spin  webs,  and  the 
philosophers,  by  their  learned  speculations,  hatch  cock- 
atrices, to  poison  themselves  and  their  fellow-creatures: 
few  of  either  sort  have  one  serious  thought  of  that  awful 
eternity  upon  the  brink  of  which  they  stand  for  a  while, 
and  into  the  depth  of  which  they  successively  fall. 

"  A  part  of  the  sentence  denounced  against  the  city, 
which  once  stood  upon  seven  hills,  is  so  pointed  and  gra- 
phical, that  I  must  transcribe  it:  '  And  the  voice  of  harpers, 
and  musicians,  and  pipers,  and  trumpeters,  shall  be  heard 
no  more  at  all  in  thee;  and  no  craftsman,  of  whatsoever 
craft  he  be,  shall  be  found  any  more  in  thee,  and  the  light 
of  a  candle  shall  no  more  be  seen  in  thee.'  Now,  I  am  in- 
formed, that,  upon  certain  occasions,  the  whole  cupola  of 
St.  Peter's  is  covered  with  lamps,  and  affords  a  very  mag- 


1«>5] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


105 


nificent  spectacle :  if  I  saw  it,  it  would  remind  me  of  that 
time  when  there  will  not  bo  the  shining  of  a  single  candle 
in  the  city ;  for  the  sentence  must  be  executed,  and  the 
hour  may  be  approaching. 

"  You  kindly  inquire  after  my  health :  myself  and  family 
are,  through  the  Divine  favor,  perfectly  well ;  yet,  healthy  as 
I  am,  I  labor  under  a  growing  disorder,  for  which  there  is 
no  cure ;  I  mean  old  age.  I  am  not  sorry  it  is  a  mortal 
disease,  from  which  no  one  recovers ;  for  who  would  live 
always  in  such  a  world  as  this,  who  has  a  scriptural  hope  of 
an  inheritance  in  the  world  of  light  1  I  am  now  in  my 
seventy-second  year,  and  seem  to  have  lived  long  enough 
for  myself;  1  have  known  something  of  the  evil  of  life,  and 
have  had  a  large  share  of  the  good.  I  know  what  the  world 
can  do,  and  what  it  cannot  do ;  it  can  neither  give  nor  take 
away  that  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  understanding ; 
it  cannot  sooth  a  wounded  conscience,  nor  enable  us  to 
meet  death  with  comfort.  That  you,  my  dear  Sir,  may 
have  an  abiding  and  abounding  experience  that  the  Gospel 
is  a  catholicon,  adapted  to  all  our  wants  and  all  our  feelings, 
and  a  suitable  help  when  every  other  help  fails,  is  the  sin- 
cere and  ardent  prayer  of 

"  Your  affectionate  friend, 

"  John  Newton." 

But  in  proportion  as  Mr.  N.  felt  the  vanity  of  earthly 
pursuits,  he  was  as  feelingly  alive  to  whatever  regarded 
eternal  concerns.  Take  an  instance  of  this  in  a  visit  which 
he  paid  another  friend.  This  friend  was  a  minister  who 
affected  great  accuracy  in  his  discourses,  and  who,  on  that 
Sunday,  had  nearly  occupied  an  hour  in  insisting  on  several 
labored  and  nice  distinctions  made  in  his  subject.  As  he 
had  a  high  estimation  of  Mr.  N's  judgment,  he  inquired  of 
him,  as  they  walked  home,  whether  he  thought  the  distinc- 
tions just  now  insisted  on  were  full  and  judicious?  Mr.  N. 
said  he  thought  them  not  full,  as  a  very  important  one  had 
been  omitted.  "  What  can  that  be  ?"  said  the  minister, 
M  for  I  had  taken  more  than  ordinary  care  to  enumerate 
them  fully."  "  I  think  not,"  replied  Mr.  N.,  "  for  when 
many  of  your  congregation  had  travelled  several  miles  for  a 
meal,  I  think  you  should  not  have  forgotten  the  important 
distinction  which  must  ever  exist  between  meat  and  bones." 
5* 


106 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[106 


In  the  year  1790  Mr.  N.  had  the  honorary  degree  of 
D.D.  conferred  upon  him  by  the  university  of  New- Jersey, 
in  America,  and  the  diploma  sent  him.  He  also  received  a 
work  in  two  volumes,  dedicated  to  him,  with  the  above  title 
annexed  to  his  name.  Mr.  N.  wrote  the  author  a  grateful 
acknowledgment  for  the  work,  but  begged  to  decline  an 
honor  which  he  never  intended  to  accept.  "  I  am,"  said  he, 
"  as  one  born  out  of  due  time.*  I  have  neither  the  preten- 
sion nor  wish  to  honors  of  this  kind.  However,  therefore, 
the  university  may  over-rate  my  attainments,  and  thus  show 
their  respect,  I  must  not  forget  myself;  it  would  be  both 
vain  and  improper  were  I  to  concur  in  it." 

But  Mr.  N.  had  yet  another  storm  to  weather.  While  we 
were  contemplating  the  long  and  rough  voyage  he  had  passed, 
and  thought  he  had  only  now  to  rest  in  a  quiet  haven,  and 
with  a  fine  sunsetting  at  the  close  of  the  evening  of  his  life  ; 
clouds  began  to  gather  again,  and  seemed  to  threaten  a 
wreck  at  the  very  entry  of  the  port. 

He  used  to  make  excursions  in  the  summer  to  different 
friends  in  the  country,  endeavoring  to  make  these  visits 
profitable  to  them  and  their  neighbors,  by  his  continual 
prayers,  and  the  expositions  he  gave  of  the  scriptures  read 
at  their  morning  and  evening  worship.  I  have  heard  of  some 
who  were  first  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  themselves  and 
of  God  by  attending  his  exhortations  on  these  occasions ; 
for,  indeed,  besides  what  he  undertook  in  a  more  stated  way 
at  the  church,  he  seldom  entered  a  room  but  something 
both  profitable  and  entertaining  fell  from  his  lips.  After  the 

"In  a  MS.  note  on  a  letter  dated  15th  Dee.  1797,  he  writes,  "Though 
I  am  not  so  sensibly  affected  as  I  could  wish,  I  hope  I  am  truly  af- 
fected by  the  frequent  reviews  I  make  of  my  past  life.  Perhaps  the 
annals  of  Thy  church  scarcely  afford  an  instance  in  all  respects  so  sin- 
gular. Perhaps  Thy  grace  may  have  recovered  some  from  an  equal 
degree  of  apostacy, infidelity,  and  profligacy:  but  few  of  them  have 
been  redeemed  from  such  a  state  of  misery  and  depression  as  I  was  in, 
upon  the  coast  of  Africa,  when  Thy  unsought  mercy  wrought  for  ray 
deliverance:  but  that  such  a  wretch  should  not  only  be  spared,  and 
pardoned,  but  reserved  to  the  honor  of  preaching  Thy  Gospel,  which 
he  had  blasphemed  and  renounced,  and  at  length  be  placed  in  a  very 
public  situation,  and  favored  with  acceptance  and  usefulness,  both 
from  the  pulpit  and  the  press,  so  that  my  poor  name  is  known  in  most 
parts  of  the  world  where  there  are  any  who  know  Thee — this  is  won- 
derful indeed  !  The  more  Thou  hast  exalted  me,  the  more  1  ought  to 
abase  myself." 


107] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOIIN  NEWTON. 


107 


death  of  Miss  Cunningham  and  Mrs.  N.,  his  companion  in 
these  summer  excursions  was  his  other  niece,  Miss  Elizabeth 
Catlett.  This  young  lady  had  also  been  brought  up  by  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  N.  with  Miss  Cunningham,  and  on  the  death  of 
the  two  latter,  she  became  the  object  of  Mr.  N's  naturally 
affectionate  disposition.  She  also  became  quite  necessary 
to  him  by  her  administrations  in  his  latter  years ;  she  watched 
him,  walked  with  him,  visited  wherever  he  went;  when  his 
sight  failed  she  read  to  him,  divided  his  food,  and  was  unto 
him  all  that  a  dutiful  daughter  could  be. 

But  in  the  year  1801  a  nervous  disorder  seized  her,  by 
which  Mr.  N.  was  obliged  to  submit  to  her  being  separated 
from  him.  During  the  twelvemonth  it  lasted,  the  weight  of 
the  aflliction,  added  to  his  weight  of  years,  seemed  to  over- 
whelm him.  I  extracted  a  few  of  his  reflections  on  the  oc- 
casion, written  on  some  blank  leaves  in  an  edition  of  his 
Letters  to  a  Wife,  which  he  lent  me  on  my  undertaking 
these  Memoirs,  and  subjoin  them  in  a  note.*  It  may  give 
the  reader  pleasure  to  be  informed  that  Miss  Catlett  re- 
turned home,  and  gradually  recovered. 

*  "  August  1st,  1801.  I  now  enter  my  77th  year.  I  have  been  exer- 
cised this  year  with  a  trying  and  unexpected  change  ;  but  it  is  by  thy 
appointment,  my  gracious  Lord ;  and  thou  art  unchangeably  wise, 
good,  and  merciful.  Thou  gavest  me  my  dear  adopted  child.  Thou 
didst  own  my  endeavors  to  bring  her  up  for  thee.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  thou  hast  called  herbythy  grace.  I  thank  thee  forthe  many  years 
comfort  (ten)  I  have  had  in  her,  and  forthe  attention  and  affection  she 
has  always  shown  me,  exceeding  that  of  most  daughters  to  theirown 
parents.  Thou  hast  now  tried  me,  as  thou  didst  Abraham,  in  my  old 
age;  when  my  eyes  are  failing,  and  my  strength  declines.  Thou  hast 
called  for  my  Isaac,  who  had  so  long  been  my  chief  stay  and  staff,  but 
it  was  thy  chief  blessing  that  made  her  so.  A  nervous  disorder  has 
seieed  her,  and  I  desire  to  leave  her  under  thy  care  ;  and  chiefly  pray 
for  myself,  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  wait  thy  time  and  will,  without 
betraying  any  signs  of  impatience  or  despondency  unbecoming  my 
profession  and  character.  Hitherto  thou  hast  helped  me;  and  to  thee 
I  look  for  help  in  future.  Let  all  issue  in  thy  glory,  that  my  friends 
and  hearers  may  be  encouraged  by  seeing  how  I  am  supported ;  let 
thy  strength  be  manifest  in  my  weakness,  and  thy  grace  be  sufficient 
for  me,  and  let  all  finally  work  together  for  our  good.  Amen.  I  aim 
to  say  from  my  heart,  Not  my  will,  but  thine,  be  done.  But  though 
thou  hast  in  a  measure  made  my  spirit  willing,  thou  knowest,  and  1 
feel,  that  the  flesh  is  weak.  Lord,  I  believe,  help  thou  my  unbelief. 
Lord,  [  submit,  subdue  every  rebellious  thought  that  dares  arise  against 
thy  will.  Spare  my  eyes,  if  it  please  thee:  but,  above  all,  strengthen 
my  faith  and  love." 

t  Mr.  Newton's  Letters  to  a  Niece  were  written  to  her:  they  are 
published  by  the  American  Tract  Society ;  Series  V.  No.  7. 


108 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[108 


It  was  with  a  mixture  of  delight  and  surprise  that  the 
friends  and  hearers  of  this  eminent  servant  of  God  beheld 
him  bringing  forth  such  a  measure  of  fruit  in  extreme  age. 
Though  then  almost  eighty  years  old,  his  sight  nearly  gone, 
and  incapable,  through  deafness,  of  joining  in  conversation, 
yet  his  public  ministry  was  regularly  continued,  and  main- 
tained with  a  considerable  degree  of  his  former  animation. 
His  memory,  indeed,  was  observed  to  fail,  but  his  judgment 
in  divine  things  still  remained ;  and  though  some  depression 
of  spirits  was  observed,  which  he  used  to  account  for  from 
his  advanced  age,  his  perception,  taste,  and  zeal  for  the 
truths  he  had  long  received  and  taught,  were  evident.  Like 
Simeon,  having  seen  the  salvation  of  the  Lord,  he  now  only 
waited  and  prayed  to  depart  in  peace. 

After  Mr.  N.  was  turned  of  eighty,  some  of  his  friends 
feared  he  might  continue  his  public  ministrations  too  long; 
they  marked  not  only  his  infirmities  in  the  pulpit,  but  felt 
much  on  account  of  the  decrease  of  his  strength  and  of  his 
occasional  depressions.  Conversing  with  him  in  January, 
1806,  on  the  latter,  he  observed  that  he  had  experienced 
nothing  which  in  the  least  affected  the  principles  he  had 
felt  and  taught ;  that  his  depressions  were  the  natural  result 
of  fourscore  years,  and  that,  at  any  age,  we  can  only  enjoy 
that  comfort  from  our  principles  which  God  is  pleased  to 
send.  "  But,"  replied  I,  "  in  the  article  of  public  preach- 
ing, might  it  not  be  best  to  consider  your  work  as  done, 
and  stop  before  you  evidently  discover  you  can  speak  no 
longer?"  "I  cannot  stop,"  said  he,  raising  his  voice; 
"  What !  shall  the  old  African  blasphemer  stop  while  he 
can  speak  ?" 

In  every  future  visit  I  perceived  old  age  making  rapid 
strides.  At  length  his  friends  found  some  difficulty  in  mak- 
ing themselves  known  to  him :  his  sight,  his  hearing,  and 
his  recollection,  exceedingly  failed;  but,  being  mercifully 
kept  from  pain,  he  generally  appeared  easy  and  cheerful. 
Whatever  he  uttered  was  perfectly  consistent  with  the  prin- 
ciples he  had  so  long  and  so  honorably  maintained.  Calling 
to  see  him  a  few  days  before  he  died,  with  one  of  his  most 
intimate  friends,  we  could  not  make  him  recollect  either  of 
us  ;  but  seeing  him  afterward,  when  sitting  up  in  his  chair,  I 
found  so  much  intellect  remaining  as  produced  a  short  and 
affectionate  reply,  though  he  was  utterly  incapable  of  con- 
versation 


109] 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOIIN  NEWTON. 


109 


3Ir.  N.  declined  in  this  very  gradual  way,  till  at  length  it 
was  painful  to  ask  him  a  question,  or  attempt  to  rouse  fa- 
culties almost  gone ;  still  his  friends  were  anxious  to  get  a 
word  from  him,  and  those  friends  who  survive  him  will  be 
as  anxious  to  learn  the  state  of  his  mind  in  his  latest  hours. 
It  is  quite  natural  thus  to  inquire,  though  it  is  not  important 
how  such  a  decided  character  left  this  world.  I  have  heard 
Mr.  N.  say,  when  he  has  heard  particular  inquiry  madi; 
about  the  last  expressions  of  an  eminent  believer,  "  Tell 
me  not  how  the  man  died,  but  how  he  lived." 

Still  I  say  it  is  natural  to  inquire,  and  I  will  meet  the  d«  • 
sire  (not  by  trying  to  expand  uninteresting  particulars,  but) 
as  far  as  I  can  collect  encouraging  facts  ;  and  1  learn,  from  a 
paper  kindly  sent  me  by  his  family,  all  that  is  interesting 
and  authentic. 

About  a  month  before  Mr.  N's  death  Mr.  Smith's  niece 
was  sitting  by  him,  to  whom  he  said,  "  It  is  a  great  thing  to 
die ;  and  when  flesh  and  heart  fail,  to  have  God  for  the 
strength  of  our  heart,  and  our  portion  for  ever :  I  know 
whom  I  have  believed,  and  he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I 
have  committed  unto  him  against  that  day.  Henceforth 
there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness,  which  the 
Lord,  the  righteous  Judge,  shall  give  me  at  that  day." 

When  Mrs.  Smith  (his  niece,  formerly  Miss  Catlett) 
came  into  the  room,  he  said,  "  I  have  been  meditating  on  a 
subject,  1  Come  and  hear,  all  ye  that  fear  God,  and  I  will  de- 
clare what  he  hath  done  for  my  soul.'  " 

At  another  time  he  said,  "  More  light,  more  love,  more 
liberty — Hereafter  I  hope,  when  I  shut  my  eyes  on  the 
things  of  time,  I  shall  open  them  in  a  better  world.  What 
a  thing  it  is  to  live  under  the  shadow  of  the  wings  of  the 
Almighty!  Iam  going  the  way  of  all  flesh."  And  when 
one  replied,  "  The  Lord  is  gracious,"  he  answered,  "  If  it 
were  not  so,  how  could  I  dare  to  stand  before  him?" 

The  Wednesday  before  he  died  Mrs.  G  asked  him 

if  his  mind  was  comfortable ;  he  replied,  "  I  am  satisfied 
with  the  Lord's  will." 

Mr  N.  seemed  sensible  to  his  last  hour,  but  expressed 
nothing  remarkable  after  these  words.  He  departed  on  the 
2 J st,  and  was  buried  in  the  vault  of  his  church  the  31st 
of  December,  1807,  having  left  the  following  injunction,  in 
a  letter,  for  the  direction  of  his  executors. 


110 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


[110 


"  I  propose  writing  an  epitaph  for  myself,  if  it  may  be 
put  up,  on  a  plain  marble  tablet,  near  the  vestry-door,  to 
the  following  purport : 

JOHN  NEWTON,  Clehk, 
Once  an  Infidel  and  Libertine, 
A  servant  of  slaves  in  Africa, 
Was,  by  the  rich  mercy  of  our  Lord  and  Savior, 
JESUS  CHRIST, 
Preserved,  restored,  pardoned, 
And  appointed  to  preach  the  Faith, 
(He  had  long  labored  to  destroy,) 
Near  sixteen  years  at  Olney,  in  Bucks, 
And  . .  years  in  this  church. 
On  Feb.  1,  1750,  he  married 
MARY, 

Daughter  of  the  late  Georgt  Catlett, 
Of  Chatham,  Kent. 
He  resigned  her,  to  the  Lord  who  gave  her, 
On  the  15th  of  December,  1790. 

"  And  I  earnestly  desire  that  no  other  monument,  and 
no  inscription  but  to  this  purport,  may  be  attempted  for  me." 

The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  beginning  of  Mr.  Newton'* 
will,  dated  June  13,  1803:— 

"  In  the  name  of  God,  Amen.  I  John  Newton,  of  Cole- 
man-street  Buildings,  in  the  parish  of  St.  Stephen,  Cole- 
man-street,  in  the  city  of  London,  Clerk,  being,  through 
mercy,  in  good  health  and  of  sound  and  disposing  mind, 
memory,  and  understanding,  although  in  the  seventy-eighth 
year  of  my  age,  do,  for  the  settling  of  my  temporal  concerns, 
and  for  the  disposal  of  all  the  worldly  estate  which  it  hath 
pleased  the  Lord  in  his  good  providence  to  give  me,  make 
this  my  last  Will  and  Testament  as  follows.  I  commit  my 
soul  to  my  gracious  God  and  Savior,  who  mercifully  spared 
and  preserved  me  when  I  was  an  apostate,  a  blasphemer, 
and  an  infidel;  and  delivered  me  from  that  state  of  misery 
on  the  coast  of  Africa  into  which  my  obstinate  wickedness 
had  plunged  me ;  and  who  has  been  pleased  to  admit  me 
(though  most  unworthy)  to  preach  his  glorious  Gospel.  I 
rely  with  humble  confidence  upon  the  atonement  and  media- 
tion of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  God  and  man,  which  I  have 
often  proposed  to  others  as  the  only  foundation  whereon  a 
sinner  can  build  his  hope ;  trusting  that  he  will  guard  and 
guide  me  through  the  uncertain  remainder  of  my  life,  and 


Ill] 


FAMILIAR  REMARKS. 


Ill 


that  he  will  then  admit  me  into  his  presence  in  his  heavenly 
kingdom.  I  would  have  my  body  deposited  in  the  vault 
under  the  parish  church  of  Saint  Mary  Woolnoth,  close  to 
the  coffins  of  my  late  dear  wife  and  my  dear  niece,  Eliza- 
beth Cunningham  ;  and  it  is  my  desire  that  my  funeral  may 
be  performed  with  as  little  expense  as  possible,  consistent 
with  decency." 

Remarks  made  by  Mr.  Newton  in  Familiar  Conversation. 

While  the  mariner  uses  the  loadstone,  the  philosopher 
may  attempt  to  investigate  the  cause;  but  after  all,  in  steer- 
ing through  the  ocean,  he  can  make  no  other  use  of  it  than 
the  mariner. 

If  an  angel  were  sent  to  find  the  most  perfect  man,  he 
would  probably  not  find  him  composing  a  body  of  divinity, 
but  perhaps  a  cripple  in  a  poor-house,  whom  the  parish  wish 
dead,  and  humbled  before  God  with  far  lower  thoughts  of 
himself  than  others  think  of  him. 

When  a  Christian  goes  into  the  world  because  he  sees 
it  is  his  call,  yet,  while  he  feels  it  also  his  cross,  it  will  not 
hurt  him. 

Satan  will  seldom  come  to  a  Christian  with  a  gross  temp- 
tation :  a  green  log  and  a  candle  may  be  safely  left  together ; 
but  bring  a  few  shavings,  then  some  small  sticks,  and  then 
larger,  and  you  may  soon  bring  the  green  log  to  ashes. 

If  two  angels  were  sent  from  heaven  to  execute  a  divine 
command,  one  to  conduct  an  empire,  and  the  other  to  sweep 
a  street  in  it,  they  would  feel  no  inclination  to  change  em- 
ployments. 

What  some  call  providential  openings  are  often  powerful 
temptations;  the  heart,  in  wandering,  cries,  Here  is  a  way 
opened  before  me:  but,  perhaps,  not  to  be  trodden  but 
rejected. 

I  should  have  thought  mowers  very  idle  people ;  but 
they  work  while  they  whet  their  scythes.  Now  devotedness 
to  God,  whether  it  mows  or  whets  the  scythe,  still  goes  on 
with  the  work. 

A  Christian  should  never  plead  spirituality  for  being  a 
sloven ;  if  he  be  but  a  shoe-cleaner,  he  should  be  the  best 
in  the  parish. 

My  principal  method  of  defeating  heresy,  is  by  esta- 


112 


FAMILIAR  REMARKS. 


[112 


blishing  truth.  One  proposes  to  fill  a  bushel  with  tares; 
now  if  I  can  fill  it  first  with  wheat,  I  shall  defy  his  attempts. 

When  some  people  talk  of  religion,  they  mean  they  have 
heard  so  many  sermons,  and  performed  so  many  devotions, 
and  thus  mistake  the  means  for  the  end.  But  true  religion 
is  an  habitual  recollection  of  God  and  intention  to  serve 
him,  and  this  turns  every  thing  into  gold.  We  are  apt  to 
suppose  that  we  need  something  splendid  to  evince  our  de- 
votion, but  true  devotion  equals  things — washing  plates  and 
cleaning  shoes  is  a  high  office,  if  performed  in  a  right  spirit. 
If  three  angels  were  sent  to  earth,  they  would  feel  perfect 
indifference  who  should  perform  the  part  of  prime-minister, 
parish  minister,  or  watchman. 

Many  have  puzzled  themselves  about  the  origin  of  evil; 
I  observe  there  is  evil,  and  that  there  is  a  way  to  escape  it, 
and  with  this  I  begin  and  end. 

Consecrated  things  under  the  law  were  first  sprinkled 
with  blood,  and  then  anointed  with  oil,  and  thenceforward 
were  no  more  common.  Thus  under  the  Gospel,  every 
Christian  has  been  a  common  vessel  for  profane  purposes; 
but  when  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  anointed 
by  God  the  Father  (2  Cor.  1  :  21,)  he  becomes  separated 
and  consecrated  to  God. 

I  would  not  give  a  straw  for  that  assurance  which  sin 
will  not  damp.  If  David  had  come  from  his  adultery,  and 
had  talked  of  his  assurance  at  that  time,  I  should  have  des- 
pised his  speech. 

A  spirit  of  adoption  is  the  spirit  of  a  child ;  he  may  dis- 
oblige his  father,  yet  he  is  not  afraid  of  being  turned  out  of 
doors:  the  union  is  not  dissolved,  though  the  communion  is. 
He  is  not  well  with  his  father,  therefore  must  be  unhappy, 
as  their  interests  are  inseparable. 

We  often  seek  to  apply  cordials  when  the  patient  is  not 
prepared  for  them,  and  it  is  the  patient's  advantage,  that  he 
cannot  take  a  medicine  when  prematurely  offered.  When 
a  man  comes  to  me  and  says,  "  I  am  quite  happy,"  I  aro 
not  sorry  to  find  him  come  again  with  some  fears.  I  never 
saw  a  work  stand  well  without  a  check.  "  I  only  want,* 
says  one,  "  to  be  sure  of  being  safe,  and  then  I  will  go  on.'' 
No;  perhaps,  then  you  will  go  off. 

For  an  old  Christian  to  say  to  a  young  one,  "  Stand  it 
my  evidence,"  is  like  a  man  who  has  with  difficulty  climbei 


113] 


FAMILIAR  REMARKS. 


113 


by  a  ladder  or  scaffolding  to  the  top  of  the  house,  and  cries 
to  one  at  the  bottom,  "  This  is  a  place  for  a  prospect — come 
up  at  a  step." 

A  Christian  in  the  world  is  like  a  man  who  has  had  a 
long  intimacy  with  one,  whom  at  length  he  finds  out  to  have 
been  the  murderer  of  a  kind  father;  the  intimacy,  after  this, 
will  surely  be  broken. 

"Except  a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  king- 
dom of  God."  A  man  may  live  in  a  deep  mine  in  Hungary, 
never  having  seen  the  light  of  the  sun ;  he  may  have  re- 
ceived accounts  of  prospects,  and  by  the  help  of  a  candle 
may  have  examined  a  few  engravings  of  them ;  but  let  him 
be  brought  out  of  the  mine,  and  set  on  the  mountain,  what 
a  difference  appears ! 

Candor  will  always  allow  much  for  inexperience.  I  have 
been  thirty  years  forming  my  own  views,  and  in  the  course 
of  this  time  some  of  my  hills  have  been  sinking,  and  some 
of  my  valleys  have  risen ;  but  how  unreasonable  would  it 
be  to  expect  all  this  should  take  place  in  another  person, 
and  that  in  the  course  of  a  year  or  two. 

Candor  forbids  us  to  estimate  a  character  from  its  acci- 
dental blots.  Yet  it  is  thus  that  David,  and  others,  haw- 
been  treated. 

There  is  the  analogy  of  faith:  it  is  a  master  key  which 
not  only  opens  particular  doors,  but  carries  you  through  the 
whole  house ;  but  an  attachment  to  a  rigid  system  is  dan- 
gerous. Luther  once  turned  out  the  epistle  of  St.  James, 
because  it  disturbed  his  system.  I  shall  preach,  perhaps, 
very  usefully  upon  two  seemingly  opposite  texts,  while  kept 
apart;  but  if  I  attempt  nicely  to  reconcile  them,  it  is  ten  to 
one  if  I  don't  begin  to  bungle. 

I  can  conceive  a  living  man  without  an  arm  or  a  leg,  but 
not  without  a  head  or  a  heart;  so  there  are  some  truths 
essential  to  vital  religion,  and  which  all  awakened  souls  are 
taught. 

Apostacy,  in  all  its  branches,  takes  its  rise  from  atheism. 
"  I  have  set  the  Lord  always  before  me,"  &c. 

We  are  surprised  at  the  fall  of  a  famous  professor,  but, 
in  the  sight  of  God,  he  was  gone  before  ;  it  is  only  we  that 
have  now  first  discovered  it.  "  He  that  despiseth  small 
things,  shall  fall  by  little  and  little." 

There  are  critical  times  of  danger.  After  great  services, 


114 


FAMILIAR  REMARKS. 


[114 


honors,  and  consolations,  we  should  stand  upon  our  guard. 
Noah,  IiOt,  David,  Solomon,  fell  in  these  circumstances. 
Satan  is  a  footpad  :  a  footpad  will  not  attack  a  man  in  go- 
ing to  the  bank,  but  in  returning  with  his  pocket  full  of 
money. 

A  Christian  is  like  a  young  nobleman,  who,  on  going  to 
receive  his  estate,  is  at  first  enchanted  with  its  prospects  ; 
this  in  a  course  of  time  may  wear  off,  but  a  sense  of  the 
value  of  the  estate  grows  daily. 

When  we  first  enter  into  the  divine  life,  we  propose  to 
grow  rich  ;  God's  plan  is  to  make  us  feel  poor. 

Good  men  have  need  to  take  heed  of  building  upon 
groundless  impressions.  Mr.  Whitfield  had  a  son  who,  as 
he  imagined,  was  born  to  be  a  very  extraordinary  man  ;  but 
the  son  soon  died,  and  the  father  was  cured  of  his  mistake. 

1  remember,  in  going  to  undertake  the  care  of  a  congre- 
gation, I  was  reading  as  I  walked  in  a  green  lane,  "  Fear 
not,  Paul,  I  have  much  people  in  this  city."  But  I  soon 
afterward  was  disappointed  in  finding  that  Paul  was  not 
John,  and  that  Corinth  was  not  Warwick. 

Christ  has  taken  our  nature  into  heaven  to  represent  us; 
and  has  left  us  on  earth  with  his  nature  to  represent  him. 

Worldly  men  will  be  true  to  their  principles ;  and  if  we 
were  as  true  to  ours,  the  visits  between  the  two  parties 
would  be  short  and  seldom. 

A  Christian  in  the  world  is  like  a  man  transacting  his 
affairs  in  the  rain.  He  will  not  suddenly  leave  his  client, 
because  it  rains  ;  but  the  moment  the  business  is  done,  he 
is  off:  as  it  is  said  in  the  Acts,  "  Being  let  go,  they  went  to 
their  own  company." 

God's  word  is  certainly  a  restraint ;  but  it  is  such  a  re- 
straint as  the  irons  which  prevent  children  from  getting  into 
the  fire. 

God  deals  with  us  as  we  do  with  our  children ;  he  first 
speaks,  then  gives  a  gentle  stroke,  at  last  a  blow. 

The  religion  of  a  sinner  stands  on  two  pillars,  namely,  / 
what  Christ  did  for  us  in  his  flesh,  and  what  he  performs  in 
us  by  his  Spirit.    Most  errors  arise  from  an  attempt  to  se- 
parate these  two. 

Man  is  not  taught  any  thing  to  purpose  till  God  becomes 
his  teacher,  and  then  the  glare  of  the  world  is  put  out,  and 
the  value  of  the  soul  rises  in  full  view.    A  man's  present 


115] 


FAMILIAR  REMARKS. 


115 


sentiments  may  not  be  accurate,  but  we  make  too  much  of 
scntimens.  We  pass  a  field  with  a  tew  blades,  we  call  it  a 
field  of  wheat ;  but  here  is  no  wheat ;  no,  not  in  perfec- 
tion, but  wheat  is  sown,  and  full  ears  may  be  expected. 

Contrivers  of  systems  on  the  earth  are  like  contrivers  of 
systems  in  the  heavens  ;  where  the  sun  and  moon  keep  tho 
same  course  in  spite  of  the  philosophers. 

A  man  always  in  society  is  one  always  on  the  spend  ;  on 
the  other  hand,  a  mere  solitary  is  at  his  best  but  a  candle  in 
an  empty  room. 

If  we  were  upon  the  watch  for  improvement,  the  com- 
mon news  of  the  day  would  furnish  it ;  the  falling  of  the 
tower  in  Siloam,  and  the  slaughter  of  the  Galileans,  were 
the  news  of  the  day  which  our  Lord  improved. 

The  generality  make  out  their  righteousness  by  compar- 
ing themselves  with  some  others  whom  they  think  worse ; 
thus  a  woman  of  the  town,  who  was  in  the  Lock  Hospital, 
was  offended  at  a  minister  speaking  to  her  as  a  sinner,  be- 
cause she  had  never  picked  a  pocket. 

Take  away  a  toy  from  a  child  and  give  him  another,  and 
he  is  satisfied  ;  but  if  he  be  hungry,  no  toy  will  do.  Thus, 
as  new-born  babes,  true  believers  desire  the  sincere  milk  of 
the  word;  and  the  desire  of  grace  in  this  way  is  grace. 

One  said  that  the  great  saints  hi  the  calendar  were  many 
of  them  poor  sinners  ;  Mr.  N.  replied  they  were  poor  saints 
indeed,  if  they  did  not  feel  that  they  were  great  sinners. 

The  Lord  has  reason  far  beyond  our  ken,  for  opening  a 
wide  door  while  he  stops  the  mouth  of  a  useful  preacher. 
John  Bunyan  would  not  have  done  half  the  good  he  did,  if 
he  had  remained  preaching  in  Bedford  instead  of  being  shut 
up  in  Bedford  prison. 

f  Do  not  tell  me  of  your  feelings.  A  traveller  would  be 
glad  of  fine  weather,  but  if  he  be  a  man  of  business,  he  will 
go  on.  Bunyan  says,  You  must  not  judge  of  a  man's  haste 
by  his  horse,  for  when  the  horse  can  hardly  move  you  may 
see,  by  the  rider's  urging  him,  what  a  hurry  he  is  in. 

Professors  who  own  the  doctrines  of  free  grace,  often 
act  inconsistently  with  their  own  principles  when  they  are 
angry  at  the  defects  of  others. 

We  should  take  care  that  we  do  not  make  our  profession 
of  religion  a  receipt  in  full  for  all  other  obligations.  A  man 
truly  illuminated  will  no  more  despise  others  than  Barti 


116 


FAMILIAR  REMARKS. 


meus,  after  his  own  eyes  were  opened,  would  take  a  stick 
and  beat  every  blind  man  he  met. 

It  is  pure  mercy  that  negatives  a  particular  request.  A 
miser  would  pray  very  earnestly  for  gold,  if  he  belisved 
prayer  would  gain  it ;  whereas,  if  Christ  had  any  favor  to 
him  he  would  take  his  gold  away.  A  child  walks  in  the 
garden  in  spring,  and  sees  cherries ;  he  knows  they  are 
good  fruit,  and  therefore  asks  for  them.  "  No,  my  dear," 
says  the  father,  "  they  are  not  yet  ripe  ;  stay  till  the  season." 

If  I  cannot  take  pleasure  in  infirmities,  I  can  sometimes 
feel  the  profit  of  them.  I  can  conceive  a  king  to  pardon  a 
rebel,  and  take  him  into  his  famity,  and  then  say,  "I  appoint 
you  for  a  season  to  wear  a  fetter.  At  a  certain  season  I  will 
send  a  messenger  to  knock  it  off.  In  the  mean  time  this 
fetter  will  serve  to  remind  you  of  your  state ;  it  may  hum- 
ble you  and  restrain  you  from  rambling." 

The  heir  of  a  great  estate,  while  a  child,  thinks  more  of 
a  few  shillings  in  his  pocket  than  of  his  inheritance.  So  a 
Christian  is  often  more  elated  by  some  frame  of  heart  than 
by  his  title  to  glory. 

I  feel  like  a  man  who  has  no  money  in  his  pocket,  but  is 
allowed  to  draw  for  all  he  wants  upon  one  infinitely  rich  ; 
I  am,  therefore,  at  once  both  a  beggar  and  a  rich  man. 

I  went  one  day  to  Mrs.  G  's  just  after  she  had  lost 

all  her  fortune  ;  I  could  not  be  surprised  to  find  her  in 
tears,  but  she  said,  "  I  suppose  you  think  I  am  crying  for 
my  loss,  but  that  is  not  the  case :  I  am  now  weeping  to  think 
I  should  feel  so  much  uneasiness  on  this  account."  After 
that  I  never  heard  her  speak  again  upon  the  subject  as  long 
as  she-  lived. 

Sometimes  I  compare  the  troubles  which  we  have  to  un- 
dergo in  the  course  of  the  year,  to  a  great  bundle  of  faggots, 
far  too  large  for  us  to  lift.  But  God  does  not  require  us  to 
carry  the  whole  at  once  ;  he  mercifully  unties  the  bundle, 
and  gives  us  first  one  stick,  which  we  are  to  carry  to-da}', 
and  then  another,  which  we  are  to  carry  to-morrow,  and  so 
on.  This  we  might  easily  manage,  if  we  would  only  take 
the  burden  appointed  for  us  each  day  ;  but  we  choose  to  in- 
crease our  troubles  by  carrying  yesterday's  stick  over  again 
to-day,  and  adding  to-morrow's  burden  to  our  load,  before 
we  are  required  to  bear  it. 

THE  END. 


I  THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY  I 

*  f 

j^j             IX  ADDITION  TO  BETWEEN  FOUR  AND  FIVE  HUNDRED  ^ 

TRACTS 


CHILDREN'S  TRACTS, 


HAVE   PUBLISHED  SEVERAL 


i 


&  OCCASIONAL  VOLUMES,  | 


OF  A 

HIGHLY  SPIRITUAL  AND  EVANGELICAL 


|| 

CHARACTER,  .-. 

Which  are  sold  at  the  lowest  prices,  with  reference  to  pro- 
moting their  most  extensive  circulation  and  usefulness.  i 

AMONG  THESE  OCCASIONAL  VOLUMES,  ARC 

w  Doddridge's  Rise  and  Progress  of  Religion  in  the 
M  Soul. 

Baxter's  Saints'  Everlasting  Rest. 

Twelve  Sermons  to  the  Aged,  (in  large  type).  By 
Rev.  George  Burder. 

CHRISTIAN  BIOGRAPHY,  VIZ. 

1.  Memoir  of  Rev  John  Newton. 

2.  do.     of  Archbishop  Leighton. 

$j  3.     do.      of  Rev.  C.  F.  Swartz,  Missionary 
Isdia. 


* 


*L  *     To  which,  other  publications  of  a  kindred  chu 


Princeton  Theological  Seminary- Spet 


1  1012  01088  7281 


DATE  DUE 

k 

DEMCO  38-297 

